A Martyr's Plight
by snippetcentric
Summary: Sequel to 'Mahariel' and based loosely on 'the Martyr' pre-set of DA2. Forced to be a Grey Warden, Mahariel tries to be cynical but her fate and personality make it harder than she thought.
1. Passing the Buck

A/N: A word of caution! This arc will be more about the Dalish warden's journey than a "Let's kill the Archdemon" affair and loosely based on 'The Martyr' pre-set of DA2. But yes, she lives in the end. I'd like to think the execution matters more than the ending \( 'A' \)! Let's get right to it, shall we?

shameless plug: Ah, yes, if you want to see a sketch of this Mahariel pre-angst, go to my blog.

Disclaimer: Bioware's, not mine! Derivative work is mine though.

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><p>Alistair watched his Dalish cohort, Mahariel, walking ahead of the group with the newly acquired mabari trotting happily by her side. Morrigan, the witch, followed close behind as she gave the other warden directions. Not that he was complaining about the lack of company; he was eternally grateful to be spared from the witch's barbs and the awkward silence that accompanied the elf. The sun was almost at its peak and as Morrigan predicted, it was not even a day and the town of Lothering was already within their sights.<p>

He found himself appraising the newest Warden. Mahariel's bearing and gait indicated none of the injuries she suffered, though admittedly she had suffered fewer wounds than him. The lesser injuries came at the cost of the traditional Dalish armor she stubbornly clung to. It was now stored in a sack, looking bulky on her back. Alistair remembered being in awe when Mahariel had begrudgingly allowed him to examine the worn armor. It was lighter and sturdier than metal but more protective than leather. Though he was no expert Alistair immediately knew that the Dalish's reputation of superb craftsmanship was well-deserved. He was almost sad to see Mahariel out of the resplendent green-dyed armor and in the battered ill-fitting leathers she currently wore. Of course, the girl had cut the toes off the matching boots, baring as much of her feet as the terrain allowed.

A girl. Once again Alistair was faced with the magnitude of their task. Not that he had anything against women, or girls for that matter. Her skills aside, it was simply that Mahariel was too young to be tasked with killing darkspawn. Alistair squinted as he looked at the girl's back; despite having facial markings and standing as tall as Morrigan, Mahariel's appearance did not belie her youth. He knew that elves generally looked younger than their age but it did not take a second glance to tell the curiously quiet elf was young. Her gangliness and the wide-eyed curiosity with which she regarded most things human, despite being so sullen, told him as much. He sighed. Ferelden's Grey Wardens, greatest protectors against the Blight were down to two new recruits who did not even have a year in the order, one of whom could very well pass as a child. "Wonderful," Alistair muttered beneath his breath.

Mahariel immediately shot him a curious look over her shoulder. Alistair could only return the gaze. The girl shrugged and returned her eyes to their path. She couldn't have heard him, could she? He looked at the girl's long ears. If Mahariel heard him speak, then their size was not just for show. The girl was a complete mystery. They had known each other for two weeks but Alistair knew nothing more about the Dalish than the day they first met. She joined the Wardens through conscription and was deadly with her bow, but that was it. Even Loghain's betrayal did not seem to unhinge her. It did not help that Mahariel spoke very little, making any conversation a one-sided affair. Perhaps she was likewise mourning the loss of their Commander. Alistair left her be.

"Look what we have here, boys, travellers!" a man announced ahead of the group.

Alistair narrowed his eyes at the band of well-armed men accosting both women. The dog leaned low with his haunches raised, growling at the men. Alistair's hand drifted to the pommel of his sword as he joined his group. He could see that the band's slouchy and poor demeanor was more telling of banditry than disciplined infantry. Morrigan sneered at them disdainfully while Mahariel simply regarded the bandits with her customary wariness. Until the cheery-looking man that Alistair thought was the leader opened his fat mouth again.

"And led by an elf, _of all things._"

Mahariel's wary frown transformed into an angry scowl. _Uh-oh, not good._

"What do you want, _shem?_" Mahariel drolled between gritted teeth, her accent entirely lost to the contempt in her tone. Her hands curled to knuckles by her sides, the fingers becoming white. Alistair gulped; at such close distance Mahariel was easy pickings. He stepped forward, coming between the girl and the bandit. Mahariel was stunned for a moment but discreetly took several steps back, eyes glittering with understanding.

Alistair brought a hand before the bandit leader's face but kept the other on his sword pommel. "Look, we know you're highwaymen but we're not refugees you can bully over. So if you could just move out of the way..."

"Aha! But that's where you're wrong, ser!" the bandit declared haughtily before thumbing over to his band. The two farthest to the back were armed with crossbows, while the two just behind him each had a sword and shield. The hulking fellow beside him had a maul strapped to his back. "We outnumber you two to one." Alistair had to smirk; the poor sod apparently did not count the mabari guarding Mahariel. The bandit continued with a shrug. "Anyway, all we ask is ten silvers, and you can be on your merry way."

Alistair was just about to reach for his coins when Morrigan piped up in her usually smug tone. "Why should we give these brutes our coin? I say teach them a lesson."

"I'd like to avoid bloodshed if possible," Alistair countered then shook the purse heavy with silver; why and how darkspawn carried coin he would never know. "Besides, we have plenty of coin." He looked to Mahariel and waited for approval. A slight nod of agreement was her only answer. "Anyway, here's your..."

The bandit leader smirked, leering with avarice. "Plenty of coin, you say?"

_Oh, bollocks. _Alistair shook his head, feeling infinitely stupid. "We've agreed on the price, ten silvers it shall be."

The bandit had drawn his sword, tapping its flat to his palm as he smiled arrogantly. "I don't think you really have much choice if I said everything in that purse, do you?"

"I tire of this," Morrigan said, as if regarding a redundant chore. Before any of them could move Morrigan had already thrown a bolt of lightning at the bandit with the maul, knocking him off his feet. The smell of scorched leather and flesh filled the air. Alistair was just about to lean into his combat stance when he heard the familiar whiz of arrows fly past him. The two archers dropped to the ground, each with an arrow stuck between their eyes. The next arrow landed with an audible 'thunk' on one of the swordsmen's shield, the death of his fellows having given him time to gather his bearings. His shield did little to protect against Morrigan's magic, however, as a burst of cold encased him in ice. Alistair had only to slam his shield against the bandit icicle to turn the odds to an equitable two against one.

Only the leader and the swordsman remained, drawing a smile from the senior warden. To his credit, the bandit leader lost none of the bravado he presented earlier, crouching low in preparation for an attack. The remaining swordsman trained on the two women at the rear. Morrigan's low mana was none too encouraging. _I thought that lightning bolt was too strong, _Alistair told himself, resisting the urge to turn his gaze behind him as a flash of metal flew towards his neck. The bandit's blow glanced off the wooden shield and Alistair drew his shield arm back, readying to pound the other man with his aegis. He almost did not notice the dagger sneaking beneath his defenses, the slice thankfully missing a notch of his splintmail armor by barely an inch. Alistair thrust his sword forward, but the bandit proved faster, hopping back with a satisfied grin on his face. The senior warden scowled. The mage would just have to rely on Mahariel's mediocre swordplay at the moment.

Then the distinctive snarl from a mabari erupted behind him, followed by a surprised yelp from the swordsman. Desperate, pained screams along with the sound of torn flesh made Alistair wince. The senior warden almost felt sorry for the lone bandit, as he moved his gaze away from Alistair to watch in horror as his fellow got mangled. Alistair was about to take advantage of the moment by lopping the bandit's head from the neck when the latter suddenly fell on his knees.

"Wait, wait!" the bandit leader cried and held his hands up in surrender. "I give up! I surrender!" Alistair kicked the man's daggers away from him before pointing his sword at the other man's neck. He hung his shield back on his back as the others joined him, collectively watching the grovelling man at his feet. "Please ser, let me go! I was just trying to make a living."

"So you can waylay us the next chance you get?" Morrigan sneered. "I think not."

Alistair ran a palm over his face as he groaned. "Morrigan..."

"What?" the witch made a bored shrug. "He would've killed us for a few bits of coin, dying by our hand is just what he deserves."

"No, no, I won't! You'll never see me again!" The bandit kept looking at Alistair with desperate and watery eyes, making his stomach lurch. He did not want to see a grown man sniveling by his feet but neither was he willing to decide the bandit's fate.

"What do you think?" Alistair asked as he turned to his fellow warden, who was regarding the bandit with an intense glare. The elf did not reply, keeping her cold gaze upon the bandit.

The bandit took the cue and shifted his grovelling to the junior warden's feet. "Oh please, please kind elf!" He kissed Mahariel's bare toes, causing the scowl on the girl's face to deepen. "Spare me! I swear I'll be kinder to your kind if you do!"

For a moment it looked like Mahariel would draw the unsoiled dagger on her back and gut the sniveling fellow, and the intensity on the girl's face did not incline Alistair to intervene. Much to his surprise, however, the elf nodded towards to the other end of the highway.

"Run," the elf mumbled.

"W-what?"

"I said run," Mahariel repeated, shooting the bandit a deadly glare. She then gestured towards Morrigan. "Unless you want the mage to kill you."

On cue, Morrigan's hand crackled with electricity. Terror filled the bandit's face as he bolted away from them as fast as he could, leaving a trail of fluid in his path. Alistair chuckled and turned to address Mahariel but found his words caught in his throat.

The elf had drawn an arrow, bow held high as her eyes and aim followed the retreating bandit. Before Alistair could say anything, the taut string released with a 'twang', sending the arrow flying into the air. His head comically bobbed as he followed its movement. Morrigan followed the arrow more discreetly, only using her eyes. As the arrow arced down, caught in the edges of his vision was the scrambling bandit, none the wiser of the deadly projectile upon him. A gasp escaped Alistair as the bandit fell. For a moment he thought the bastard only tripped, until several moments passed without him getting up. Alistair looked to Mahariel then back to the horizon where the bandit fell. "Maker that's very...far." A thought then struck him and he jerked his head to face the elf. "Wait, I thought you were sparing him!"

"I didn't say that." Mahariel shrugged and began rummaging through the corpses. "Besides, he took his weapons."

At that, Alistair turned to where he kicked the weapons. Indeed, the daggers were gone. He frowned. "So? It doesn't mean he'd bother us again."

The young elf tilted her head as her eyes widened, looking at him as if he missed something obvious. "He would've hurt more people."

Alistair could only gape at Mahariel as the latter moved on to the next corpse. He ignored Morrigan's cackling, for once unsure if it was directed to him or the elf. He supposed he should be impressed that Mahariel cared about the other people the bandit might hurt. That its mere possibility became a certainty to her unsettled him, but he found himself smiling at the thought. They need that certainty right now, seniority be damned.

Mahariel walked up to him with a small pouch of coins in hand. A slight smile tugged on the elf's face when the mabari bounced before her, a discarded helmet in his mouth. He likewise smiled, but not because of the dog. Smiling suited the girl, to say the least. And suddenly she was all business again when she offered the pouch. "Here's all their coin. Silvers, mostly. Almost a sovereign's worth." Mahariel almost looked proud; the Dalish apparently had little use for coin in the forest and the senior warden had to give the girl a crash course on currency during their trip to the quartermaster. It was easy enough to explain bits, silvers, and sovereigns to Mahariel and it had been amusing to watch the elf make her purchases with guarded excitement. Though 'amusing' wouldn't be the right word for the wary elf. Alistair noticed the impatient pout on the girl's face. His smile grew wider. He decided on 'cute'.

Alistair took the pouch and by weight alone, he knew Mahariel was correct. Then he shook his head and offered the coins back to the elf. Mahariel's expressive eyes asked the question for her. "As you already saw, my coin-handling ended up quite badly."

"An understatement," Morrigan quipped, looking quite bored as she leaned on a nearby pillar.

"Anyway, keep it,"Alistair said and ignored the witch as he gave Mahariel a reassuring smile. "You'll be doing me a favor, really. Merchants always shortchange me, perhaps you'll fare better." Alistair clasped his hands together and mock-pleaded with his junior. "Come on, please? I'll even air out your armor for you." Mahariel continued to regard him cautiously until she reluctantly took the coin purse.

"Very well," the elf said as she slipped the pouch into her pack, then nodded towards the stairs leading to Lothering. Morrigan and the mabari were soon at their sides. "Shall we proceed?"

Alistair shrugged and followed behind Mahariel's step. It was a first step and he was not proud of it. Pride was a luxury, one that neither Alistair nor Ferelden could afford at the moment. They needed certainty, which he as senior warden did not have. He kept staring at the elf's back, taking in the lithe and slender form. Mahariel's narrow shoulders seemed so fragile. Soon, he would be dumping upon those fragile shoulders the burden of leading against the Blight. He felt smaller, but pushed the feeling back.

Mahariel would just have to do.


	2. Orlais meets the Dales

A/N: If I have to write another fight scene I will die. * shakes fist at story! * And a lot of thanks to th1nm1nt for editing, this was barely readable before he went at it!

Disclaimer: Characters not mine but Bioware's and EA's. Derivative work is mine though.

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><p>Mahariel wrinkled her nose as soon as she and her companions stepped into the cramped tavern that was Dane's Refuge. The distinct smell of human bodies, desperation and fear in good measures had fermented in the closed quarters. Mahariel bit her lip, trying not to retch; if she knew the tavern stank so badly she would have been more diplomatic with the profiteering merchant she drove off. The novelty of the human multitude had worn off since Ostagar and only strengthened her notion that humans actively avoided baths, excepting Morrigan who perpetually smelled of herbs and ash. Mahariel glanced at the woman and by the similar wrinkling of her nose, it was obvious that she was likewise appalled by the tavern's stench. Alistair, however, did not even seem slightly miffed by the smell, a feat considering even the smelly mabari was whining and pawing at his nose. Perhaps his own rank odor provided him immunity.<p>

The junior warden almost cracked a smile at the thought when a group of heavily armored men marched towards them. The mabari immediately went on alert, growling a warning with his teeth bared at the incoming soldiers. It went unheeded.

"Well well, what do we have here. It seems we've just been blessed, men," the soldier with the most ornate armor slurred, presumably the leader. He was standing close enough that Mahariel could smell the alcohol from his breath.

Another soldier nodded. "She fits the description. Not many blue-eyed elves around," the bloke said, all the while staring luridly at the girl. Mahariel covered her eyes reflexively as she groaned. Apparently her odd eye color had not gone unnoticed.

"Uh-oh, Loghain's men," Alistair whispered into Mahariel's ear as his hand wandered to the pommel of his sword. "This could be trouble."

Mahariel lifted a brow; how humans were able to tell each other apart by mere sight was a mystery to her. Clad in clunky metal they all looked the same. She shrugged and whispered back. "What could they want? Your King is dead and as far as I know, Loghain has no quarrel with us."

Alistair looked comically shocked and would have retorted, but the drunken soldier before Mahariel piped up. "No quarrel? It was by the Grey Warden's treachery that King Maric fell!"

Both wardens' jaws dropped. "What?" they cried in unison.

"Gentlemen, there is no need for trouble," a woman declared, inserting herself into the fray. Before Mahariel knew it she was staring at the back of a red-haired human, garbed in chantry robes, who had stepped between her and the soldiers. _How bold, _the elf thought. The woman did not spare a look behind her as she continued. "I am sure they are just poor souls, also seeking refuge from the Blight."

"You think refugees come as well-armed as these lot?" the leader barked.

"And only unarmed refugees can flee from the blight? I think not, yes?"

As far as the junior warden knew humans would not harm clerics. Her shock gave way to mild disbelief as she stepped back and allowed the woman to mediate. Betrayal was nothing new to her, after all, and she was hard-pressed to empathize with the people who took her from her clan. The sentiment obviously was not shared by Alistair, who was fuming behind her. She took the chance to appraise the soldiers. There were seven of them, all heavily-armored. Cold sweat trickled down her neck; if they came to blows it would be ugly. She could not use her bow in the confined space and melee was never her strong point. Her eyes lingered on the greatsword strapped to the leader's back as she swallowed in fear and tried not to imagine how futile her blades would be against the huge weapon. Mahariel tilted her head down, hoping her feigned meekness would strengthen the cleric's claim.

Unfortunately, Alistair had a different idea.

"You're being misled, Loghain's the traitor_! _He quit the field and left us and King Maric to our deaths!"

The red-haired cleric and Mahariel both spun to Alistair at the same time, dismay plain on their features. "It would seem Alistair's idiocy has no bounds," Morrigan groaned as she covered her face with her palm. Even so, Alistair still seemed none the wiser until the head soldier yelled:

"See! They _are_ Grey Wardens!" The predictable whispers of steel being drawn came next. "Get them, and kill the sister if she gets in the way!"

"Oops."

"Save it!" Mahariel snarled as she went back to back with Alistair, dar'misaan and dar'misu already in hand. The odd feeling of frost soon enveloped both her weapons and from the corner of her eye the elf saw Morrigan working her magic. The mage had yet to wave her staff twice and one of the soldiers had already fallen to the floor, screaming in horror and as open to her arrows as an injured deer. Oh, if only she could use her-

"Mage! Get the mage!"

Crossbow bolts shattered on Morrigan's hastily placed barriers and by the strain on her face, it was easy to tell they could do little against the two swordsmen ready to cleave her head.

"_Alas_!" Mahariel cursed in elvish as she practically shoved Alistair towards the mage. "Cover Morrigan!" she cried. The senior warden needed not be told twice, jumping just in time between the swords and the mage's neck. Wood and metal clattered in heavy blows and soon the almost-templar and mage were working as one against the soldiers.

Before Mahariel could sigh in relief, however, she realized she was face-to-face with the leader and his larger-than-thou greatsword, along with two lesser-armed swordsmen. They were sneering through their helmets, no doubt thinking the lithe elf was easy prey. Long fingers turned white as the elf's grip tightened around her weapons, all the while inwardly praying to her gods for protection. When the first swing came from her left, protection leaped in the form of raw teeth and muscle.

The soldier screamed in agony as the mabari's powerful jaws dug into his hand mid-air, causing him to drop the longsword. It startled the soldiers enough to give Mahariel a chance to attack, keen eyes already trained upon a gap on the bitten man's armor. The clumsy combatant gave way to the gifted hunter who knew where flesh and bone gave least resistance; the slim dar'misu slipped cleanly between the arm guard and pauldron. The poor sod did not notice that his sword arm remained attached by a mere sliver of skin until the mabari landed and the momentum was all it took to severe the arm completely.

"Shit, SHIT! MY ARM!" the one-armed soldier cried as he fell to his knees. The dog dropped the severed arm and seemed done with the hysterical man, shifting his attention to the other lesser-armed soldier. To his credit, the soldier looked ready to give the war dog a proper fight. A deadly dance between man and beast soon followed.

"Bloody hell," the head soldier spat as he recovered from his daze and whipped his head back to Mahariel, anger burning in his eyes. Without warning the greatsword came bearing overhead upon the elf, her natural light-footedness her only salvation as she hopped out of the way. The greatsword crashed into a poor table instead, shattering it to splinters. Mahariel thought the soldier would at least take a moment to catch his breath but another swing directed at her torso said otherwise. Too late to dodge, the lithe elf instead crossed her weapons by her side to parry the blow.

CLANG!

She yelped at the meeting of metal against metal that sent her staggering, the joints in her fingers and wrists popping at the weight of the clash. Before Mahariel could regain her footing the shadow of the incoming greatsword was cast between her eyes. Her pupils dilated at the impending death blow.

_Well that was quick. Abelas, Alistair._

By some unseen grace, the greatsword careened harmlessly to her left and lodged itself in the floor. It took a few moments for Mahariel to realize that the leader was face down at her feet, howling in pain as blood pooled around his knees. She blinked several times and found herself staring at the cleric, bloodstained and crouching low with a bloody knife in her hand. Piercing blue eyes gazed out from beneath spattered blood and red hair, fixing upon Mahariel. She thought she was seeing things; clerics were not supposed to stab people, were they? But then she also thought the soldiers were not allowed to hurt the cleric. She frowned. Apparently humans were as prone to violence as they were to avoiding baths.

The cleric intoned something that sounded like a question. With a slight shake of her head, the young elf focused on the woman. "I'm sorry, what?" Mahariel asked.

The woman gave her a startled look before repeating the question. "I asked if you're alright?"

Mahariel returned the woman's expression as she realized the cleric sounded different from other humans. She then remembered both Alistair and Morrigan giving her the same look when they first met. Unbidden warmth raced to her face as she finally realized why. "Yes, I'm alright," Mahariel replied as she looked around the tavern in an attempt to hide her blush. She saw that the other soldiers had been routed, mangled and torn up but otherwise alive. Her companions, meanwhile, came out unscathed excepting the blood splattered all over them. Letting out a sigh of relief, Mahariel turned back to the motionless soldier by her feet.

"You alive?" the elf asked the soldier with a tentative nudge of her foot. An agonized gurgle was his only reply. Mahariel's face wrinkled in pity as she knelt beside the wounded soldier and looked at the plentiful blood. She shook her head with a sigh then directed her sorrowful eyes to the red-haired human. "He is your prey, cleric. Do not let him suffer more."

The woman's eyes went wide with shock. "You're asking me to kill him?"

Mahariel frowned. "No, I'm asking you not to let him suffer."

"Or you know," Alistair interjected as he rejoined Mahariel, "We could do the civilized thing and ask him if he wants to live."

The young elf scowled at her senior. "Are you implying I'm uncivilized?"

"I-I'm not..." the senior warden sputtered helplessly, but clammed up at the icy glare the elf was directing him.

The cleric sighed and looked to the ambivalent mage leaning on the doorway. Morrigan immediately scoffed. "Oh, don't mind me," she said along with a wave of her hand. "If 'tis up to me these brutes would already be dead, but not for the reasons she proposed."

Mahariel was about to settle the issue by burying her dar'misaan in the leader's throat when a feeble whimper made her look down to her feet. "P-please, let us live..." the fallen leader mumbled as he looked at her like an animal on the verge of dying.

With furrowed brows, the junior warden rubbed the bridge of her nose as she stared blankly at the dying soldier. An hour had not even passed and again she was deciding whether a man, or men for that matter, should live or die. She spared the battered soldiers a quick glance; a crippled leader, a soldier without a sword-arm, both bleeding to death and would _probably be dead _before they reached the outskirts of Lothering. The rest seemed rattled enough with the state of their severely wounded brethren that Mahariel decided they posed no immediate threat to anyone.

"Then go if you will," Mahariel finally declared as she shook the blood from her dar'misu, not even looking at the soldiers concerned. The remaining able-bodied soldiers immediately scrambled to their injured. Just as they were on their way out, Alistair halted one of them, placing a hand on his shoulder. The soldier almost jumped, trembling as he turned to face the senior warden. Alistair, meanwhile, certainly was making an effort to look menacing; chin tilted up, gnashed teeth, flaring nostrils and furrowed brow. Mahariel's cheeks puffed and became red with restrained laughter. Funnily-menacing was more like it. Alistair then whispered something into the soldier's ear that may have been an authentic threat considering how vigorous the blighter nodded and almost stumbled over his comrades on his way out.

With the soldiers gone, Mahariel and her companions had to deal with the wary and fearful tavern folk. The junior warden chose to ignore the stares directed at them, instead turning to the blood-stained cleric. "Ma-I mean, thank you for saving my life," Mahariel said as she dipped her head low in reverence to the human.

"And thank you for sparing the soldiers," the woman said then gracefully made a swift curtsy. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Leliana, a lay sister of the Chantry." With a slight pause and thoughtful look, she continued. "Or was, rather."

Mahariel was once again mesmerized by how familiar syllables became foreign as they rolled off from the human's tongue, so much that she forgot returning the introduction. Usually wary eyes widened with inquiry. "You're a different kind of human, aren't you?" the elf asked, sounding every bit as young as she looked. Leliana, for her part, drew back in surprise while Alistair shook his head, presumably embarrassed for his junior. The wicked grin on Morrigan's face was enough evidence of her amusement.

The ex-sister covered her mouth with her hand as she cleared her throat before addressing the curious elf. Mahariel's brows knitted as she noticed the suppressed humor on the human's face. "Uhm, no different as you are from city elves. I am not from Ferelden, you see."

Mahariel's ears pricked up from sheer curiosity. "Where are you from then?"

"Orlais," Leliana replied, looking wistful for a moment then smiled warmly at the young warden. "Perhaps you have heard of it?"

"No," the elf shook her head, suppressing the smile that came with the discovery. Humans of different origins spoke differently, like elves. Who knew? Curiosity satisfied, the junior warden gestured to herself. "Anyway, I am Mahariel, and these are..."

The senior warden offered a handshake, which the sister took. "Alistair, pleasure to meet you, Leliana."

The mage, however, merely gave the other human an uninterested look. "Morrigan, if you must."

The mabari barked, drawing a smile from Mahariel. The elf scratched behind the tall dog's ears. "And this is Falon."

At that, Morrigan mock-enthused with a single clap. "Good! Now that is over with, let us purchase our supplies and be done with this place."

Leliana emulated Morrigan's gesture, albeit sincerely. "Indeed! Where shall we go next?"

Mahariel and her party looked at Leliana as if she had grown a second head. "'We'? " the elf repeated, being the first to recover. She was tempted to check the chantry sister for a fever.

"Oh, I got ahead of myself, didn't I?" Leliana mumbled as her eyebrows lifted and she covered her mouth in embarrassment. She soon composed herself and offered the junior warden a gracious smile. "I forgot to tell you I'll be aiding you against the Blight."

Mahariel's jaw dropped along with Alistair's while Morrigan narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Even the dog cocked his head, seemingly in confusion and a feeling shared by the junior warden. "Wait, what? Did you just say..." Mahariel ran a hand through her hair in disbelief. "By the Dread Wolf why would you want to do that?"

"I..I know this sounds completely insane but..." Leliana said tentatively, apprehension and embarrassment coloring her face. "...but the Maker told me so."

Leliana's revelation became a third head, as the group regarded her with even more horror.

"Uh..." Alistair broke the ice with deadpan jest. "That's fine and well but we're all full up with crazy."

"If by 'Maker' you mean the chantry god, try something else," Mahariel shrugged as she appraised the still hopeful sister. Leliana _did_ save her from a bloody death, so the least she could do was give the woman a chance. The dangerous glint she had seen earlier in the woman's dark eyes was gone and instead replaced with hopeful pleading, notwithstanding the splatter of blood still marring her cheeks. That she was alive should be evidence enough of Leliana's mettle, but she still can't be too sure; they were facing a Blight, after all. "What can you do, exactly?"

"As you have seen, I can fight," Leliana said gravely, subdued lethality suddenly returned to her eyes. The woman then pulled out a silver coin and held it before Mahariel, then placed it on the flat of her fingers. The group watched with no small amount of amazement as the coin weaved over and under the dextrous digits of woman's right hand to her left, then back again until it disappeared beneath the smallest finger. Before anyone of them could even blink Leliana had already reached behind Mahariel's pointed ear and from there, produced the coin. "I can do _more _than fight," the redhead finally concluded, flipping the coin to the group. Only Morrigan had enough remaining sense to catch it.

The elf could only gape.

"I hope that means I am in, yes?" Leliana asked, lethality flushed out and was once again pleading with the group.

Mahariel picked up her jaw and blinked out of her daze. If Leliana's speed and dextrous skills were translated into a fight, she would indeed prove dangerous, to say the least. She was impressed; and by the looks on her companions, it was quite obvious they shared her sentiments.

Sighing, Mahariel nodded with resignation.


	3. A Mysterious Mystery

A/N: I almost forgot to mention the dwarves! How embarrassing. They'll be mostly wallpaper anyway. And I do enjoy any speculations you lovely readers have in mind, so don't be shy! Again, thanks for th1nm1nt for editing. He deserves cake, a LOT of cake.

Disclaimer: Derivative work is mine. The rest is Bioware and EA's.

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><p>The ex-chantry pair, Alistair and Leliana, sat by the campfire as they passed first watch for the night. Sten, the latest addition, had volunteered for watch duty, but the rest of the party had excused him. After all, he was fresh out of captivity and still suffering from starvation. The free-riding dwarves, Bodahn and Sandal, were tucked in and asleep in their little wagon, depending entirely upon the Wardens' watch. Meanwhile, Morrigan and Mahariel had both turned in right after the nightly necessities of dinner and hygiene. The witch continued her unsociable streak by setting up her own campfire, separate from the main camp. The Dalish was likewise predictable, opting to sleep on her bedroll by the fire, surrounded by teeming nature instead of the comforts of a private tent. The newly-bathed mabari was curled around the sleeping girl, ever watchful. It made chatting awkward for the pair, seeing that as Mahariel had sensitive hearing and was right across them. Not to mention that the junior warden was their topic for the night.<p>

"She never said and I never asked. Sixteen, I guess?" Alistair whispered as he looked over his shoulder then back to Leliana. "I don't know, I could never tell with elves." Alistair allowed.

Leliana likewise glanced at Mahariel then shook her head. "Even as elves go she's the youngest sixteen year-old I've seen," she countered.

"Well you've never met a Dalish, have you? Maybe they have that immortality thing down and she's actually a hundred or more," Alistair said with awe. He again looked over his shoulder and regarded his sleeping junior suspiciously. "Maybe that explains why she's so deadly despite looking like that."

Leliana covered her mouth as she giggled. "Oh, you really don't believe that, do you? I mean, I don't want to be rude but she's not _that_ deadly."

Alistair smiled knowingly. "Wait 'til you see her with a bow. I still can't decide if it's amazing or terrifying. Anyway, I'd say fourteen and no younger," he offered and threw another log into the campfire. "I didn't say twelve because it's just plain scary if a twelve year-old can fight like that."

"Mmm," Leliana assented as she tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. She cast a lingering gaze over her shoulder towards the sleeping girl. The raw light from the flames cast a flattering brightness over the elf's already fine features. A tiny smile crossed her lips. "So...how did she join the Wardens?"

Alistair threw a gauntleted hand to his breastplate. "I am offended, my lady! You'd ask about her and not me?"

Leliana playfully swatted Alistair's arm. "I can ask you anytime, silly," the woman continued and once again looked over her shoulder. "I'd ask her myself but...she's sort of..."

"Scary?" the senior warden offered in jest.

"Severe," the Orlesian corrected. "It's improper to describe a pretty girl like that as 'scary', no?"

The senior warden winced in agreement then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Don't know much I'm afraid. All I know is what our commander told me. She was conscripted," Alistair related, suddenly morose. "I asked her about it but she said she'd rather not talk about it."

Leliana rested her chin on her palm as she looked at Alistair inquisitively. "What does 'conscripted' mean, exactly?"

Alistair sat upright, looking scholarly. "It means she was compelled into service. The wardens have the rite of conscription which gives them the right to compel anyone into service, from the high-born prince to a condemned prisoner." Alistair rubbed the bridge of his nose, fidgeting. "I was conscripted myself; the Revered Mother was against me joining the Order but Duncan invoked the rite."

"You mean you became a warden against your will?" the Orlesian asked in disbelief.

Alistair waved his hands before him, laughing. "Maker, no! I was glad to be out of the chantry! I almost kissed Duncan when he said he'd take me. The Revered Mother didn't want to let me go though, so he had to invoke the rite." He grinned. "And here I thought you were asking about Mahariel and not me."

Leliana replied with a small smile of her own. "Well when you said 'compelled to service' like her, I assumed it was also against your will."

The implication stunned the senior warden. "W-wait, you think she joined against her will?" he voiced a little too loudly. Leliana immediately shushed Alistair by pressing a finger against his lips. The senior warden complied with a hint of crimson on his cheeks. Both of them looked over to Mahariel, sighing in relief as the elf remained fast asleep.

"So...uhm, you think she joined against her will?" Alistair repeated, quietly this time, as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

"Mmm," Leliana nodded, lips slightly pursed as she did. "I am sorry, I just assumed you knew or thought as much. The Dalish are not known for parting with their own willingly."

"B-but, even they are pledged to aid against the Blight. Surely it must be an honor to join the Grey Wardens," Alistair sputtered defensively.

Leliana merely shrugged. "Perhaps, but put yourself in her shoes," she whispered as she regarded the senior warden cautiously. "Someone as young and as insular as her, do you think she would leave the comfort of her home for something as abstract as Grey Warden glory?"

"Ah...I..." Alistair lamely offered before deflating with a sigh. "Now it makes sense. She hardly flinched at Loghain's betrayal or the accusations against us. I feel so stupid," he rubbed his temples. "Nothing new, right?"

"There there," Leliana offered, placing a comforting hand on the senior warden's shoulder. "Even as disgruntled as she is, she _is_ still with you against the Blight, yes? That is what should matter."

"You weren't kidding when you said you could do more than fight, were you?" Alistair sighed with a wan smile. "I suppose I would've wised up earlier if she had _actual shoes_ for me to place myself into."

Leliana could not help but laugh; a soft and lilting melody. Alistair watched the woman as if entranced. He coughed into his fist, effectively covering the crimson on his cheeks. "Uh, so enough about me. Or the Wardens," he said in clipped bashfulness as he regarded the Orlesian. "How'd someone like you end up in the chantry?"

The earlier merriment on Leliana's face somewhat diminished as she took pause. "What do you mean by 'someone like you'?" she queried with a tiny smirk on her lips.

The tiny smirk made Alistair fidget on his seat, his cheeks growing even warmer. "Oh, I don't know. I've lived long enough in a chantry and I must say I never met a chantry sister that looked or fought like you do. "

At that, the Orlesian touched her cheek self-consciously. "Why, is there something wrong with my face?"

"No, nothing! It's quite beautiful, in fact," Alistair stammered, completely missing the surprise on the woman's face. "Uh, anyway, yes. Skills and fighting."

Leliana pursed her lips and looked thoughtful as she fed another log to the crackling fire. "Mmm, what can I say?" She locked her hands together and rested her chin on top of them before facing Alistair. The renewed fire illuminated the dark blue of the Orlesian's eyes, devoid of emotion, in stark contrast to her wistful smile. "I was a traveling minstrel back in Orlais; songs and tales were my life. Since I mostly traveled alone, learning arms became a necessity."

Alistair's eyes narrowed with a question. "I suppose that makes sense but..." he drawled as he scratched the corner of a brow, "...how did you end up in the chantry?"

"That is...a tale for another time," Leliana whispered as the smile completely disappeared from her face.

Alistair clammed up at the assumed offense and tried to mouth an apology, but Leliana had turned away and begun staring into the distance. The pair sat in awkward silence for a long while, until a muted rustle of movement came behind them. They turned and saw Mahariel up from her cot, looking impossibly young in her loose undershirt.

The senior warden took it as a chance to break the quiet. "Hey, have a nice nap?" Alistair asked, sounding quite chipper.

"No," Mahariel replied curtly, not even looking at Alistair as she wiggled into her loose-fitting chestpiece. Her haggard face came into view as she sat by the firelight and slipped on her open-toed boots.

Resilient to his junior's sullenness, Alistair probed further. "Bad dreams then?"

"Maybe," the elf answered, almost as curtly as before. Alistair yielded with a sigh and allowed Mahariel to dress in peace. He rejoined Leliana in her quiet vigil. Murmurs of night creatures, burning wood and rustling of Mahariel's fittings filled the silence. It was most apt that the elf was the first to break it.

"I can't sleep anymore," Mahariel declared as she plopped down next to Alistair, her faithful mabari at her side. She then nestled a quiver of arrows on her lap. "I can take over your watch," she offered and absently began sifting through her arrows.

"Are you sure?" Alistair asked with a quirked eyebrow. "You still have an hour before your turn."

"Yes I'm sure," Mahariel replied as she raised an arrow to her eye, examining it closely. After a moment she moved on to the next arrow and made a frown. "I'll wake up Morrigan for her shift," she said nonchalantly as she produced a small knife and started clipping at the arrow's fletching.

Leliana had turned her attention to the junior warden, and particularly at her task. Her gaze followed the elegant elven fingers carving minuscule corrections upon the projectile. "If you like I could stay with you until my time ends," she offered warmly.

"Thank you, but no," Mahariel declined in a heartbeat, not even lifting her gaze from the arrow but nodding slightly to the large dog curled by her feet. "I'm fine with Falon."

The human pair exhanged a dubious look before Alistair again regarded the junior warden. "Are you really _really_ sure you're alright with taking second watch early? The trip to the Brecilian might be a bit punishing."

Mahariel set her implements aside and glared at Alistair. "I already said _I am sure,_" she sneered as she folded her arms over her chest. "In case you've forgotten I am Dalish and your 'punishing' trip is _my_ way of living."

"Alright, alright, no need to shoot those frostballs at me," Alistair conceded as he held his hands before him. He looked over to Leliana then nodded over to their respective tents. "Let's give our princess her alone time with her hound."

Mahariel scowled and returned to her arrows.

"Very well," Leliana could only sigh as she stood up from her log and dipped her head to the junior warden with a gracious smile. "Goodnight, Mahariel. Please don't hesitate to wake us if you need company."

The elf merely waved her away, her impatience evident with the gesture. Leliana nodded and walked to her tent, retiring for the night.

The senior warden soon followed, going into his own tent. Before he ducked between the flaps, however, he chided his junior. "Don't run off on us, you hear?"

Mahariel shrugged. "Wouldn't dream of it," she cried back then blew away the shavings of her handiwork. Satisfied with the response, Alistair disappeared into his tent.

The junior warden worked in silence, relying more on her hearing than her sight in keeping watch. Not that she had much need for it since her sensitivity to darkspawn had increased as of late; the monsters' incessant whispers in her mind always came before their actual war cries. The mabari, as always, was more than willing to supplement his mistress's vigilance. Two, three, four; on and on Mahariel worked on her arrows, consuming nearly all of her concentration.

As soon as she was done, Mahariel tucked the arrows back into their quiver. She quietly moved onto her other belongings; broken armor, small backpack, and most importantly, longbow. She took a moment to test the bowstring and made a full-draw. The muscles on her arms, shoulders, and back eased into the familiar pressure of her favored tautness, bringing a smile to her face. She slowly released the bowstring to maintain silence.

It was time.

Mahariel knelt on one knee and faced the mabari, holding his massive head between her hands. She locked her eyes with the hound's intelligent gaze.

"Remember what I told you, Falon?" the girl whispered as she rested her forehead against the mabari's. "Bark once if you do."

The dog tilted his head and made a soft whine.

Mahariel smiled fondly and scratched between the dog's ears. "I said bark, not whine. And softly, please." Another whine escaped the dog, but he complied.

"Good boy," Mahariel whispered and held out a mabari crunch for her hound.

The dog did not take the treat, instead whining to the junior warden.

Mahariel shook her head solemnly. "As long as you do what I told you, Falon, you'll find me," she whispered with a sad smile. "You're the only one I can trust."

Falon whined again and butted her head. Reluctantly, he finally took the offered treat.

Mahariel chuckled as she got on her feet and gave the mabari another favored scratch on the head. "Creators watch over us, lethallin," she whispered and disappeared into the woods.


	4. Let's Dance!

A/N: Oh gaiz, I hope you have as much fun with this as I did. Proofing credits once again go to th1nm1nt.

Disclaimer: Derivative work is mine, everything else is EA's and Bioware's.

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><p>Alistair finished the last stanza of the holy hymns with a flourish, his marvelous singing voice ending in a glorious note. Leliana, his lone and special audience, was moved to tears and rewarded his performance with dignified applause. He bowed elaborately before the beautifully radiant Orlesian, who was garbed in a brocade so exquisite it rivaled the empress's own. Leliana returned the courtesy, bending her knees as she held the sides of her gown and dipped her head. Though he strove to be a perfect gentleman, Alistair could not take his eyes off the plentiful bounty that was the Orlesian's cleavage. Despite the distractingly welcome sight, he did not forget his manners. He offered his hand to Leliana.<p>

"A dance, milady?"

Leliana daintily patted the tears away from her cheeks with a silk kerchief then offered Alistair that oh-so-wonderfully gracious smile. "Of course, kind ser," she said, the elegant accent somehow became thicker as she took the offered hand. "I am honoured by your company."

And so, the handsome pair danced their way in time with the soft music. For every step Alistair took, Leliana had one of her own, eagerly twirling within his arms with or without prompting. Whenever their bare skins touched Alistair felt as if he was on fire. As the music slowed, so did their movements. Not that he complained, as it likewise allowed Leliana to melt into his powerful and well-toned arms.

Feeling bold, Alistair drew the woman closer and whispered to her ear. "Are you enjoying yourself, milady?"

"Mmm," Leliana purred her assent, turning Alistair's knees to jelly. More so when she rested her chin upon his shoulder and drew even closer, whispering into his ear. "Alistair, if you please, I must ask you something."

An indulgent smile formed on his mouth. "Of course, Leliana. You can ask me anything."

Leliana pulled back and smiled brightly, before words formed and spilled from her mouth. Oddly, her lips and voice did not coincide with what he heard.

"Wake up, fool!"

"W-what?" the man said with no small amount of horror. Did Leliana just sound like, Maker forbid, _Morrigan_?

Leliana continued to speak but again her voice was not hers and her lips did not coincide with the words. "If you don't wake up _right now_ you'll do so later as a toad!"

In his confusion Alistair almost did not notice the sharp ache suddenly throbbing on his cheek.

Then the world turned black.

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><p>"Oww!" Alistair whined as he woke, rubbing his cheek. When he opened his eyes his vision was immediately filled with a very angry Morrigan. He frowned. <em>From heaven to hell in a heartbeat,<em> he bitterly thought. "What do you want?" the senior warden muttered sleepily as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. Before Morrigan could answer, however, Alistair had already clambered away from her and to the nearest corner. "Wait, what are you doing in my tent?"

"Waking you up, you blithering idiot," Morrigan scoffed and crossed her arms."And before you begin sniveling about how mean I am, the elf is gone."

Alistair straightened up on his bum, eyeing Morrigan doubtfully. "Elf? You mean Mahariel?" Then the witch's words registered, sending Alistair backtracking towards the woman. "Wait, did you just say _'gone'_?"

"Yes, _gone. _I woke for my watch and found the fool dog standing watch without the girl. Gone along with all her belongings, might I add," Morrigan related as one would comment on weather. Alistair blanched at the revelation, drawing a smirk from the witch. "T'would seem you'll be marching to the Archdemon alone, after all."

Alistair raced out his tent, for once praying that the witch was actually messing with him. Sten and Leliana were just beginning to peer out of their tents when Alistair tore inside his junior's canvas. Despite the darkness, he confirmed what Morrigan had told him.

Gone.

In a flash he was out and by the campfire standing before Mahariel's now empty cot. It was clear of the fletchings and arrows which had littered the space just a short while ago. Even the furs the girl used for warmth were missing. "Has anyone seen her leave?" he asked with ringing desperation.

"Afraid we haven't, ser," Bodahn answered as he joined the ruckus by the campfire. "Me and my boy were fast asleep."

"I am sorry," Leliana said as she shook her head with a mournful gaze. "I should've been able to see what she planned."

"'Tis not surprising, really. The Brecilian is her home, 'tis not?" Morrigan mused as she fell to a seat on one of the logs surrounding the campfire. "Most likely she just waited to draw near the forests before launching her escape."

"We should just move on," Sten said coldly as he began checking the camp for stray implements and utensils.

The hollow feeling confined to Alistair's stomach now raced to his throat, urging him to vomit. He denied the feeling, falling on his knees instead. "She's gone," he said to himself, still not believing. He jerked his head to Leliana. "Just like that, _she's gone!"_

"Alistair..." Leliana said as she sat beside the senior warden, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort.

It helped little as he trembled with building anguish. In his mind, Mahariel's unwillingness be damned, the Blight simply just mattered more. And he had tried his best to make her feel welcome in her new world, putting up with the elf's sullen moods and even trusting her with leading the group. He even stretched his patience for Mahariel's sake, even if she did not appreciate his jokes.

But still she abandoned him.

His anguish breached through his throat.

"THAT LITTLE KNIFE-EARED BRAT JUST UPPED AND GONE!" Alistair cried, stunning the rest of the group. His face was red, up to the tip of his ears and turned to the dog beside him. "You! Your mistress ran off and you didn't do anything?"

The dog could only whimper and cower in response.

"And now the lone warden goes mad with responsibility," Morrigan said, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

"Shut it, witch!" Alistair spat as he turned to Morrigan. "If only you-"

"Oho! So 'tis my fault now?" Morrigan huffed as she stood and picked up the staff resting beside her. "Might as well leave then!"

"Please calm down, both of you!" Leliana exclaimed as she stood between warden and witch. Alistair froze for a moment then backed down, remorseful for his outburst. Morrigan simply rolled her eyes, folded her arms over chest, and tapped her foot impatiently. The Orlesian sighed before giving Alistair a sharp look. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, please. For all we know she may just be scouting," Leliana rationalized, just the slightest hint of doubt in her voice.

Doubt that Morrigan was all too eager to expose. "At night and alone? 'Tis highly unlikely."

Leliana remained steadfast as she met Morrigan's haughty gaze. "We won't know for sure unless we find her. It's only been a few hours at most," she said in a steely tone. At that she looked at the repentant mabari.

Taking cue, Alistair snapped at the dog. "You! Falon! Can you lead us to Mahariel?"

The dog needed no further prompting and proceeded to sniff at his mistress' cot. He was sniffing every nook and cranny of the bedroll until Sten interrupted his task by bundling the article in his arms. The giant ignored the dog's snarling. "Even if we find her she's no doubt unwilling to perform her role, no better than Tal-Vashoth," he commented. "We're better off without her."

Any hope Alistair was harboring was crushed under Sten's words. "W-we don't-"

"Then she'll have to tell us that herself, won't she?" Leliana interjected as she snatched the bedroll from Sten and set it before the mabari. She ignored the qunari's glare.

With the bedroll back before him, Falon immediately returned to his task. After a few more sniffs, the hound made an enthusiastic bark then pointed towards forest.

"Good boy," Leliana cooed as she knelt down and gave the dog a vigorous round of petting.

Meanwhile, Alistair cleared his throat and got on his feet. If Mahariel truly skipped out on her duties, he'd better work on his leadership skills. "Alright," he said as he joined his hands in a clap, "Let's clear camp in ten minutes and find Mahariel, shall we?"

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><p>Mahariel dipped her hands in the flowing stream then splashed her face with a handful of clear water. The girl briskly rubbed her face with the cool wetness, unable to revel in it as she usually did; she was simply hoping it was enough to ward off the drowsiness threatening to overwhelm her. It worked, somewhat. She tilted her head up to the night sky and was greeted by the almost full moon. She was mesmerized for but a moment, until she recalled the events of the last full moon.<p>

Her friends, family, clan, future...all gone.

She shook her head at the dire thoughts, instead offering a prayer to Mythal, Creator of the moon and Protector of the People.

The girl wiped away the remaining droplets of water clinging to her face and got to her feet, shaking her hands dry. Mahariel looked around and frowned at the looming darkness. It was an unfamiliar strip of the forest; she was more acquainted with the Korcari than the Brecilian. She sighed and decided that she could not proceed until daylight; she could only hope that the headstart and Falon's misleading would be enough. She had to rest for the night.

Mahariel wandered to the thicket of redwood trees near the stream, eyeing each one as closely as the moonlight allowed. For the lone camper like her, sleeping atop a tree was safest. An impossibility for some; but a recreation for her People. She settled on the sturdiest looking tree. In a few moments, she had littered the tree's perimeter with snares and traps. Scaling the redwood came next.

Climbing was but a trivial task; it was practically second nature for the Dalish. Mahariel tied the end of a rope around her gloved wrist then drew it around the tree trunk and tied it to her other wrist. Soon, she was working her way up the tree; looping the rope upwards with each small leap. It hardly took any real effort; climbing had always been an enjoyable task and it had been a while since she last climbed a tree. She tried to recall when she had last done so.

_Tamlen cried from below, struggling as he climbed. "Wait up, Lyna! Creators you're faster than a squirrel!"_

Her footing slipped, skidding down several feet before she caught herself. Mahariel took a moment to catch her breath and steady her heartbeat, realizing a sheen of cold sweat had formed on the back of her neck. She heaved a deep sigh. Now was no time to think of such things. She turned her gaze up and trained on her destination: a large branch, almost twice as wide and long as Sten.

A few more loops and leaps and Mahariel had reached the branch. The elf settled upon it; it was more than enough to support her weight. She secured her furs against the trunk with her climbing rope before falling into a seat and wiggling between the soft material and tree. Having free movement of her arms, the elf secured her pack to her front and placed her longbow and quiver upon her lap. She wiggled in place, testing the snugness of her makeshift bedroll.

"Just right," she told herself with a smile. Hopes of rejoining her People ferried her to sleep.


	5. Vir Assan

A/N: For my dear dear edit/proofer/beta. Have some cake.

_iiiiiiiiiiii_

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><p>Songbirds ushered in the early summer morning of the Brecilian, complementing the quiet burble of the nearby brook. Butterflies of assorted colors danced through the air, some even settling upon the stillness that was Mahariel. The young elf sat bundled to the massive tree trunk, her furtive snoring the only indication of her slumber. It could be described as idyllic if not for the desperate figures cutting through the forest.<p>

"Run faster, hurry!" a man cried.

"They're right behind us!" another yelled.

Mahariel's eyes shot open, the frantic screaming effectively jolting her out of sleep and shooing the butterflies upon her. Thankfully, the mild morning light eased her back into the waking world. Drowsily, she looked about the area until she remembered there was not much to see, as she was strapped high on a tree. She used her ears instead, attuning to everything and anything that might indicate she wasn't dreaming.

"Unhand her, beast!" a Dalish-tinged voice rang in despair.

She was certainly not imagining things. The knowledge that a fellow Dalish was in danger brought urgency to her movements. As Mahariel hurried out of her cot, the forest filled with a woman's blood curling death knell and the fearsome roar of what she could only guess was a feral beast. Mahariel rose to her feet as she fixed her pack and readied her bow and arrows. Through the thickness of leaves and branches she saw a bizarre sight; large, wolf-like bipeds circling and snapping upon a lone Dalish hunter. Not far from the scene was one the creatures, removing itself from an unmoving elven woman. Her sharp eyes narrowed at the bloodied figure.

The woman had vallaslin, confirming what she had heard. The creatures were assaulting _her _People. Anger burned together with urgency.

Through gritted teeth, the young elf drew her bow as she searched for clear shot through the foliage. Thin branches and greenery allowed her a view but no shot. She whipped her head to the surrounding trees, scanning for another base to launch her ambush. The only promising spot was a branch from another tree yards and yards away; a misjudged jump would be fatal. And Mahariel was never one for misjudgments.

"AUGH, _ALAS_!"

Mahariel turned back to the lone hunter. A beast had breached the man's defenses and swatted away his ironwood shield. Another beast leaped from its haunches, launching itself at the man's flank. His death was imminent.

Another of her kin would die. Her arrow arm tensed as instinct and desperation took over.

_Any view is a shot._

"Fly straight and do not waver," Mahariel whispered and she released her arrow.

The arrow tore through thin branches and foliage; only sheer force or divine providence kept the projectile flying to its intended target. The beast yipped pathetically as the arrow sunk into its chest, piercing its heart. It was dead before it hit the ground.

The other beasts whipped their heads in Mahariel's general direction. A mangled voice erupted from one of the creatures. "There is another one in the trees!" the wolf-beast cried, the vulnerable hunter before them suddenly forgotten.

Another arrow buried itself into a beast's heart as if to prove a point.

The beasts abandoned the hunter before them in favor of the unseen one hiding above. Mahariel smiled as the creatures padded in her general direction, lifting their snouts into the air trying to catch her scent. As they came into sight, she counted three as their number. With another arrow, she leisurely took aim this time, even as the beasts begun to hover near her tree.

All they did was give the hunter a clearer view.

An arrow shot through a beast's skull, its bloodied tip piercing through the other side of its head.

"Up there! There!" a beast snarled, pointing up at Mahariel's branch.

The remaining members of the pack rushed to the redwood, triggering the traps littered around it. Two were caught, one on a rope snare and the other by a leg-hold trap. The beasts howled and flailed wildly making it hard for Mahariel to make a fatal shot. Four arrows flew harmlessly by until two arrows lodged into the ensnared beast's shoulders. A fatal third through the heart stilled the flailing beast. The creature in the leg-hold proved easier, the first arrow sinking into its neck and the next between its eyes.

Mahariel was just about to breath a sigh of relief when a thunderous roar erupted from behind her. The elf spun around and peered over the other side of the tree.

There was one more beast left.

Which was climbing alarmingly fast up the tree.

Mahariel reached behind her back for another arrow but felt none. She jerked her head around to check and indeed, she was out. She unstrapped the quiver and held it before her. Truly, it was empty. With swelling panic she dropped the quiver and peered over the branch.

The wolf-beast was half-way to her spot.

"_Alas!" _Mahariel cursed as she dropped her bow and moved to her dar'misaan and dar'misu. She watched the beast bury its claws into the trunk with each step of its ascent, quite telling of the strength it possessed. The Dalish trembled, once again faced with a one-sided brawl. There was no way she could defeat the beast in a head-on fight, much less while trapped on a narrow tree branch. She scoured her mind for any trick she could use against a bipedal wolf-beast climbing upon a tree.

...

None. She kicked the quiver in frustration.

The quiver bounced harmlessly off the wolf-beast's head, earning her a malicious laugh. "You will die, elf!" the beast snarled with a wolfish sneer.

Mahariel could only shake her head. She would just have to wing it.

The beast was only three feet away from her branch. Her heart beat wildly in her ears as she wiped the sweat from her brow.

The beast's claws fought for purchase on the massive branch at her feet. Mahariel stabbed at them, trying to loosen their grip, but the other set of claws swiped at her, almost driving her over the other side of the branch. Mahariel watched in horror as the claws that just swiped at her found their grip on her platform.

It was only a matter of moments before the beast would be upon her.

Mahariel inhaled sharply as fear filled her body. She couldn't fight it head-on.

So she wouldn't.

With a wild cry, the Dalish flung herself at the beast as it scrambled onto the branch, throwing the creature and herself off the platform. The beast's copper eyes widened in surprise as they both went into free-fall fifty feet above the ground.

The brief moment of surprise was all Mahariel needed. She locked her legs around the beast's torso and stabbed it wildly, again and again, not even caring where her blows landed. Blood, fur, flesh and entrails flew upwards, spattering the girl's face, hands, armor, everything. Still, the beast found the strength to fight back, snapping and swiping its teeth and claws at the Dalish. Adrenaline pumping through her, Mahariel hardly flinched when the beast tore off a bit of her left ear. Crimson filled her vision. She brought up both of her arms behind her and screamed;

"DIE ALREADY!"

The elf's twin blades plunged down to the hilt and into the beast's chest, not even giving it a chance to bellow its death cry. Mahariel's grip upon the weapons proved to be her salvation as it kept her fastened atop the creature, as the pair crashed to the ground and sent dead foliage and dirt flying in all directions.

The dazed hunter remained unmoving for a long while, simply sitting on top of the dead beast and holding the fatal weapons, all the while breathing heavily. As her mind cleared and breathing slowed, she felt the general soreness of the fall and a painful warmth from her torn ear. She narrowed her eyes as she gingerly reached for the injury, immediately flinching as the tip of her finger touched the torn appendage. She hoped it wasn't ugly. With a strong tug she pulled out both her weapons and wiped the blood from the steel on the beast's matted fur. As she sheathed her weapons, she slowly stood up and walked away from the corpse but not before giving it a strong kick. "Blighter," she muttered just as the other hunter came running towards her.

"Ma serannas, _ma serannas, _Sister!" the man cried as he took her bloody hand within his. "I thought we were done for!"

Mahariel could not help but smile at the familiar ring of her People's tongue, however odd it was to have a man more than twice her age be so thankful to her. Before she could make a customary bow, however, a soft gurgle came from behind her.

"Oh, Danyla!" the man cried, withdrawing himself from the younger hunter and running towards the gravely injured woman. Mahariel wrapped her bleeding injury with a clean cloth before joining the other the hunter kneeling beside Danyla. The man gave the woman a thorough look before turning to Mahariel. "I am sorry to impose, Sister, as you are injured yourself," he said as he gestured to the girl's ear then back to the fallen woman. "But I must ask you to help bring Danyla back to camp."

"Of course," Mahariel said with an enthusiastic nod, already slipping an arm beneath Danyla's limp body. To her own and the other hunter's surprise, she was able to lift the woman's deadweight into her arms, carrying Danyla as if she was a mere babe. A smirk crossed her lips; being a Warden had its uses after all.

"Come, da'len," the hunter said urgently as he led ahead of the pair.

"Coming!" Mahariel called back, jogging after the older hunter. Danyla almost felt weightless in her arms. Perhaps it was just the excitement of her reunion with her People that gave her the extra bit of strength. She'd rather not owe anything to the wardens. She had already given enough of her time and effort to their cause; Alistair would just have to make do without her. What could one more warden do anyway? The senior warden already had a powerful mage, a dodgy ex-cleric and a murderous qunari. Not Falon though; if things went as planned her faithful mabari would soon be with her.

Yes, the Blight was no longer her concern. The Dalish had endured the Imperium and so would they endure the Blight.

"_Even the Dalish cannot outrun the Blight," Marethari solemnly declared._

Mahariel frowned to herself, ignoring the recollection. May the Dread Wolf take her if she had to spare the Sabrae's Keeper and the Wardens another thought. She moved faster and joined the older hunter's side.

She never saw the torn flesh of her ear fall from the dead beast's mouth.


	6. Fools, fools all around!

A/N: I hope this isn't going as snaily as I think it is; if it is feel free to call me on it. Also, if you could spot the fruits of an inebriated writer please ignore it. Give th1nm1nt some moar cake 'coz his was stolen. Meanwhile, I'm shallow and happy enough with your reviews.

Disclaimer: Not mine, EA's and Bioware's. Derivative work is mine.

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><p>Morrigan sneered, watching her foolish companions from behind as they continued to be led farther and farther away from the missing warden. Yes, of course she knew they were being misled, she knew the minute the fool dog veered away from the lingering scent the Dalish left. Unknown to the others, her shapeshifting talents had other uses; her wolf form's heightened sense of smell stayed with her even in human form, albeit to a lesser degree. Not that she was inclined to inform the group otherwise; it would make her seem concerned, which she was not. Her golden eyes then settled on the lone warden of the group. Truth be told, her nose aggravated her dislike for Alistair; the buffoon should really wash his undergarments more often. Her thoughts inadvertently floated to the man's privates.<p>

...

"Ugh," Morrigan winced as her face contorted with a disgusted grimace. She inwardly cursed her mother and her confounded mission. Old God or not, she'd rather not lay with the filthy man. The man's handsome face and bearing were not enough to redeem him in Morrigan's eyes; he was simply too smelly and stupid. Perhaps she could hex the Dalish warden so that she could grow the necessary appendage. At least the pretty elf had impeccable hygiene and didn't constantly grate on her nerves. Morrigan sneered at the thought.

Not that she'd need to do any of the above given the little chance they had against the Blight.

Morrigan 'hmm'ed to herself as she tuned out the ongoing banter, joining her hands behind her head and directing her gaze at the tranquility of the Brecilian. At least she was back in her domain, the forest. Perhaps she should be thinking of her own escape, as well. Flemeth could hardly fault her for leaving such a hopeless cause, could she?

She was just beginning to enjoy the view when the chantry wench opened her mouth.

"I think we're lost," the wench tentatively declared as she stopped walking after the fool dog.

Morrigan lifted her brow and stopped walking as well, looking curiously at the wench. _Oh, this should be good, _she thought with a smirk.

The rest of the group stopped their trek as well, giving the chantry wench an inquiring look. The dog was the exception, pausing only to make a pathetic whine. Leliana, meanwhile, pointed to a rather nondescript oak tree ahead of the group. Morrigan tried to reign in her curiosity by keeping an impassive look even as she followed where the wench was pointing. She could see absolutely nothing out of-

"Maker," Alistair breathed with disbelief. "You're right."

Sten made a small nod at the tree in question. "It seems so," he said then turned to the dog. "Do you even know where the elf is?"

The dog continued whining.

Unable to maintain her nonchalance, Morrigan narrowed her eyes at the oak. "What are you talking about?" she asked with impatience as she saw nothing amiss with the tree in question.

"There," Leliana appeared by Morrigan's side, helping by having her hand infringe directly upon the mage's field of vision. Morrigan frowned but her eyes followed the wench's hand nonetheless.

And there she saw it, an arrow with a green ribbon was stuck on the oak's massive trunk. Morrigan stepped away from the chantry wench and huffed. "And that is so special _why_?" she snorted.

"We've passed the same tree three times now," Leliana said then turned to the mabari. "You're not taking us to her, are you?"

The dog looked plaintively at the wench and whined. Sten took the news in stride and hardly reacted. Alistair, meanwhile, was predictably shocked at the revelation.

"FALON! How _could you?_" Alistair cried with genuine offense and hovered over the dog. The mabari lay flat on the ground and covered his face, looking mightily ashamed.

Morrigan covered her face to hide a smirk. At least the fool warden and dog's buffoonery passed as entertainment.

The qunari grumbled. "He obeyed his mistress. It is only natural. And expected."

"Oh, now you're taking his side?" Alistair snapped.

"I am not," Sten answered simply.

"Gentlemen, please..." Leliana stepped ahead of Alistair before he could antagonize the qunari. Morrigan's face darkened with the loss of her merriment; it would have been interesting if the two men had come to blows. Without anything to amuse her, Morrigan leaned against a nearby tree and watched the wench's peacekeeping from a distance. She severely disliked the redhead zealot; at least the rest of the party had entertainment value. It was either dresses this or Maker that or 'let's all join hands and get along' nonsense with Leliana. She would rather eat another batch of her mother's marsh cuisine than converse with the woman.

"Surely we will find her soon," Leliana cajoled.

"How can you be so sure?" Alistair whined and fell on his bum. "The day's almost done and we still haven't found her."

"The Maker will guide us."

Morrigan added 'proselytizing' to the traits she disliked about the wench.

"If I may," she piped rather loudly, interrupting the sickening coddling of the fool warden.

The chantry fools and qunari all turned to her. The dog kept his disgraced stance.

"The elf is no doubt bound for the Dalish, is she not?" Morrigan said, shrugging as she pushed herself off the tree. She openly relished the reverent stares the fools directed at her as she rejoined their company. "I am informed that we shall be seeking their help anyway so why not seek the elves instead? I am sure we shall find our rogue warden with them."

Alistair gaped at her, looking more stupid than he usually did. "T-that's..._brilliant, _Morrigan!"

Leliana eyed her curiously as she crossed her arms over her chest. "And how will we find the Dalish?"

"Simple, really," Morrigan smirked as her hands flared with fire. Before her companions could protest, the mage shot a large fireball at Leliana's oak tree.

The explosion nearly knocked them off their feet, its impact echoing throughout the entire forest. The party, excepting Morrigan, watched the resulting blaze with open-mouthed horror.

Alistair shook himself out of shock and turned to Morrigan. "W-what did you do that for?" he screamed. The mage found it more amusing that the fool warden looked ready to pop a vein.

"You'll see," Morrigan said with a chuckle, sounding conniving even to her own ears. She raised her staff and gestured her companions to come near her. "Now keep close if you want to live."

"No!" Alistair kept his tirade, sweeping his hand towards the inferno. "You just burned a good hundred yards of forest and you expect us to-"

Morrigan extended her arms at her sides, casting an invisible barrier around herself. "If you want to be a pincushion for the elves' arrows be my guest!" she snapped.

Leliana blanched. "You did that to call their attention?" she asked, incredulous.

"Far easier than finding them, 'tis not?" Morrigan huffed then ground her staff into the earth. She leaned casually upon it, resting her hands and chin atop carved wood. "My mother and I have enough dealings with these folk hence I am fairly sure they won't harm me should I survive the first onslaught." Her lips curled into a taunting smirk. "Can't say the same for you."

Morrigan's smirk grew wider as she saw her companions' disgruntled faces.

The wench sighed with resignation before joining Morrigan's side. "Poor trees," Leliana mumbled.

Morrigan rolled her eyes irritably. She would definitely _have _to leave if the elf did not rejoin their cause.

"Saarebas," Sten muttered with contempt even as he entered the barrier's refuge.

Morrigan paid no mind to the presumed slur as she adjusted her barriers higher to accommodate the giant's height. It was the least she could do for the last tolerable person in the group.

The dog, surprisingly, followed the qunari.

Only Alistair was left without her protection. Morrigan's smirk became a grin as she watched the warden's jaw clench with tension. A while passed with the fool simply standing defiantly and regarding her with the evil eye. So dragging and long it was that the mage almost lost interest.

Almost.

"Hmm, what is that I hear?" Morrigan feigned hearing as she pressed her hand to the base of her ear. "Why, footfalls, I think!" she exclaimed and moved her hand from her ear to her chest. She then mocked a mournful look towards the lone warden and tsked. "'Tis been a pleasure knowing you, Wallister."

"It's _Alistair."_

"Of course," Morrigan shrugged.

Alistair remained adamant until a faint rustle from above the trees spooked him enough he nearly jumped out of his armor. "Blasted witch..." Alistair muttered under his breath and hurried into the barrier.

Then an arrow shattered by the warden's heel, startling him more than everyone. Alistair then smirked at Morrigan.

"That's it?" the fool warden asked with a smug look.

Morrigan ignored him and downed a flask of lyrium potion instead, wondering how the fool warden survived this long. She was working out how to strengthen the barrier until the buffoon's voice interrupted her plotting.

"Uh-oh."

She relished the look on everyone's face when the inevitable rain of arrows came.


	7. Turning Point

A/N: Thought I've abandoned this, have you, dear reader? Well, no, this is my little pet so rest assured that come what may, I'll finish this. Shout out goes t.a.m. for the uber quickie edit =D!

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><p>The sun was already high up in the sky but they had yet to reach the elves' encampment. Leliana tried her best to brush off the glares the Dalish hunters were directing at their backs but it was no use; unlike Mahariel their escorts made no secret of their hostility. Alistair and Morrigan had managed to persuade the elves of their group's peaceful intentions, arson and destruction of the forest notwithstanding. Though she was convinced it was mostly because the elves were terrified of the witch's mother and by extension, of Morrigan herself. She was the only one not getting the evil eye, after all.<p>

Wanting to learn more of their situation, Leliana sidled up to Morrigan, eager to attempt a conversation. Granted, most likely the mage would wave her off but what choice did she have? Alistair was too much of a mess to have a grip on their situation. Sten, meanwhile, didn't seem too keen with anything other than...alright, he didn't seem keen with anything _at all. _Perhaps she needed to brush up on her reading skills. Thusly, as Morrigan noticed her presence with a scowl, Leliana put on her charm best as she could and said, "Hello, Morrigan. If I may ask—"

"Spare me pleasantries, woman." Morrigan said briskly. "Ask and I may answer."

_Now that was easier than I thought. _"Is there anything I should keep in mind when we reach the camp?" Leliana asked genially.

"You?" Morrigan sneered before giving Leliana a smirk. "Hold your tongue is all."

Leliana inwardly thanked her good graces, as it allowed her to brush aside the slight with a smile. "I meant," she probed further, "should I greet someone, or not speak of the Maker—"

Morrigan chortled. Loudly. "By all means! Mention your maker," the woman singsonged, "And be sure to ask for their thoughts on the Exalted Marches as well."

The smile on Leliana's face strained. Sarcasm may be the cheapest of wit but never had she seen anyone so suited for it as Morrigan. Except maybe...

Her smile tightened more, noticeably so given how Morrigan lifted a curious brow. Leliana shook the thought and fell back to her usual charm. "Very well. Hold my tongue it is, then," she said sheepishly.

"Marvelous, for we are here," Morrigan announced and directed her attention to the elves ahead. Leliana followed and saw three Dalish; eight if she counted the ones hidden in the trees. The ones they could all see aimed at Sten. She had to smile at their wariness; she better appreciated Mahariel's congeniality now that she had been acquainted with her people.

One of their escorts jogged ahead of them, giving Morrigan a courteous bow on his way then cried in elvish. It was only then the sentries lowered their arms, meeting the escort with hushed discussion. They ceased their advance ten or so paces away from the elves. Both a courtesy and a precaution, Leliana supposed; as much as she wished otherwise she couldn't help but wonder of the tales regarding Dalish bandits and unwary travelers.

The conference concluded shortly and the sentries and escort approached their group with open caution on their faces. Unsurprisingly, the sentries each bowed to Morrigan. Leliana tried not to smirk at the blatant dismay on Alistair's face. She failed.

"Andaran atish'an, daughter of Asha'belannar," a blond woman said as she addressed Morrigan, then turned to Alistair, "Warden. I am Mitra," she paused with a bow. "You've business with the People, I've been told."

Alistair poised to speak, but was cut off by Morrigan. "Indeed, Mitra," she said, tone surprisingly mellow and devoid of its usual contempt. "We seek a companion of ours, Mahariel, among other matters. Perchance you know her?"

Leliana's brow arched as she looked at Morrigan, trying not to stare. A gesture not emulated by Alistair, who was gaping slack-jawed at the woman. She was honestly surprised by Morrigan's conduct; she was by far more regal than half of the nobles she knew. Perhaps she was more pleasant with familiar company. Or only towards those who acted beneath her, if Leliana was more pragmatic about it. Out of habit, Leliana took note of this possibility for her dealings with the mage.

Mitra, meanwhile, obviously knew of whom they spoke by the look on her face. The succeeding sigh and shrug of shoulders, however, told Leliana that they woudn't be learning anything from her. Morrigan must have thought as she did, considering how her face darkened. Mitra saved herself from some verbal (or possibly magical) lashing with a bow and reverent gesture towards the confines of the camp. "It is not for me to answer, Asha'belannar nar'len. Our Keeper is the only one who can speak of these things," Mitra offered meekly.

"Very well, take us to this Keeper, hmm?" Morrigan ordered, back to her usual self. Morrigan walked ahead of their group, leaving Leliana in the company of Alistair. Sten walked behind them, along with Falon, looking ready to cleave their way through the escorts should it turned out to be a trap. Leliana glanced towards elves in Morrigan's company and saw fear practically leaking out of their pores.

_Not too likely._

"Don't you think she's overdoing it?" Alistair's question jarred Leliana from her observations.

"Overdoing what?" she asked right back.

"Oh, I don't know," the warden shrugged. "Bullying very dangerous elves around right before we beg them to offer their men and women to pledge themselves against the Blight?"

"I think it's a rather effective ploy, actually," Leliana countered then discreetly nosed towards one of the elves above them, arrow yet to be sheathed. "We'd be dead by now if it weren't for her, yes?"

"The elves wouldn't be so riled up if she didn't blow up three acres of woods, either."

"Perhaps," Leliana paused for the sake of looking thoughtful, even if the answer was immediate in her mind. "But without Mahariel I'm not sure if the elves would've welcomed us if they didn't know Flemeth's daughter is with us."

"B-but...I'm a Grey Warden, and their pledge should be reason enough," Alistair sputtered.

"Other than your word, Alistair? The treaties are fine and well but..."

Alistair raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, fine, I get it." Folding his plated arms on his chest, he grumbled, "I'll be sure to cook something special for her tonight."

Leliana laughed sincerely. "Oh, I think she wouldn't—"

"I am going, whether alone or not!" a familiar voice shouted.

"You've been bitten, child! You will not make it!" a man shot right back.

"And wait for more of our people to die, Keeper? You're just like—"

Leliana and her company immediately turned towards the argument. Sure enough, it was Mahariel, whose face matched the anger in her tone. With her was a bald elf, whose grand posture and ornate staff strapped to his back Leliana thought as the Dalish leader. As they rushed towards Mahariel, Leliana saw the numerous scratches and bruises decorating the girl's body, reminding her of someone who just wrestled with a drunken dwarven matron; or two, judging from the bandage on her ear. It would make for a curious interview later.

Mahariel saw Morrigan first, judging from the surprise her face. When those large blue eyes set on Leliana and Alistair, it became outright displeasure. As she turned back to the bald elf, Mahariel threw a desperate arm towards their direction. "Them, they are with me! I can take them instead!" she shrilled.

"Oh, now you _want_ to take us, after you ran off?" Alistair spat as soon as he had Mahariel within reach. He was far too much a gentleman to lash at his junior but nonetheless, Leliana placed a pacifying hand on his shoulder. Alistair relaxed, somewhat. "Explain," he demanded, more calmly.

Mahariel, for her part, had enough decency to wince at Alistair's words. Falon walked to her side, whimpering pathetically. The girl's uneasy hand petted the mabari's head. "I'll tell you if you promise to come with me," Mahariel muttered.

Alistair's hands tightened into fists and hissed, "You've the gall to make demands after abandoning your duty, you—"

"SILENCE!" the bald man ordered, his gaze shifting between the two wardens, before settling on Alistair. "I understand you're a Grey Warden but as I am Keeper here let me say you are merely being tolerated, _not_ welcomed, thus I urge you to hold your maw." He turned to Mahariel next. "And you, da'len, how do you know these shemlen and what is this duty he speaks of?"

Mahariel's jaw locked and quivered with silence as her eyes fell on Falon. Alistair, meanwhile, became a picture of complete shock and indignance. Still, he kept quiet as ordered. Only Morrigan was bold enough to answer the Keeper's question.

"You mean she hasn't told you, Keeper?" Morrigan asked, more for show than an actual question as she gestured at the junior warden. The mage ignored the piercing glare from Mahariel. "This girl is a Grey Warden, one of two left in all of Ferelden. Quite an honor, 'tis not?"

The bald elf's narrow eyes widened into huge green balls at Mahariel. "You, da'len? A Grey Warden? Why didn't you say so?" he asked, obviously awestruck.

"Because I was forced into it and I ran away," Mahariel answered through gritted teeth as her eyes turned glassy. Leliana stepped closer to the girl but was shrugged away. Mahariel fell to her knees and hugged the huge whimpering mabari. "I just wanted to stay among my People, good or ill. Is that so bad?" She choked slightly on her words and Leliana found herself fumbling for a kerchief. Alistair, pale as a sheet, beat her to it and offered it to Mahariel. It was ignored. Morrigan seemed on the verge of saying something with that barbed tongue of hers but thankfully didn't. Sten, meanwhile, seemed impassive as ever. The junior warden continued.

"Even after I chose to die with my clan, they gave me away. Merrill even lied to my face to give me away. I never wanted this duty, honor, or whatever ideal you speak of. That is why I ran," she confessed, voice hardly above a whisper. She looked up to them, eyes red along with her face but surprisingly, remained dry. The sight of the girl summoned an unbidden memory within Leliana. She almost did not hear Mahariel's hoarse voice softly asking, "Is that answer enough?"

Silence reigned. As Leliana looked at girl before her, she couldn't help but feel sorry; not because Mahariel was forced to a life she didn't want but because she begrudged her people for loving her enough to go against her wishes. Unlike her. Leliana clamped down on the thought lest Alistair deal with two blubbering idiots in one day.

It was Alistair who first to recovered his speech. "Mahariel, I—"

"Say you'll join me, if not then shut up."

"And you'll have to if you want our help," the bald elf added, his attentions now upon Alistair. Somehow, the elf's lording did not sit well with Leliana. "I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced. I am Zathrian, Keeper of this clan. I imagine you're here about our pledge against the Blight."

"Correct," Alistair phrased warily and from his face Leliana could tell the man shared her sentiments. Briefly musing she had never met a man as readable as Alistair, Zathrian helped Mahariel to her feet then gestured towards a tent.

"The Taint changes things, da'len," the Keeper said, expression softening with affection towards Mahariel. He resumed his steely demeanor upon addressing the humans. "Come. We have much to discuss."

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><p>With their equipment in order and supplies sufficiently packed, the reunited Grey Wardens and their companions set out into the Brecilian for Witherfang's heart. Given how tired they were (at least Leliana and Morrigan, bless warden and qunari hardiness), Leliana would have opted to travel the next day and not on the verge of dusk but they had little choice. Mildly put, time was something they simply did not have; the allies they sought might turn into werewolves and worse, so might Mahariel. Zathrian and his First, Lanaya, agreed; the only thing sustaining the elf''s health was the Taint and even that wouldn't last forever. It took them long enough arguing like nobles as to how they should proceed into the forest, since Mahariel wanting to scout by herself and Alistair believing his junior to be overzealous enough to charge against the werewolves alone. Only Leliana's gentle persuasion had them finally on their way; what with Alistair was far too suggestible and Mahariel owing her her life. That, and she had to scout with the Dalish. It was the only compromise Alistair and Mahariel could strike or they would go in all at once and most likely traipse blindly into an ambush.<p>

Now, Leliana had always thought of herself as good, nay, _very _good with her current task. Notwithstanding the lack of practice, her steps were light as ever and she could see perfectly well in the dark. Even the unfamiliar forest hardly posed as a handicap. But being paired with the elf was—

"Faster, human," Mahariel ordered, very commanding despite her hushed voice. And faster Leliana moved, crouching low besides the warden. Only the forest's night symphony masked the shortness of her breath. Mahariel's thin brows crinkled into a frown as she looked at Leliana but kept her displeasure to herself. The girl gestured to the side and accordingly, Leliana peered from her corner. Her eyes widened at the sight.

An actual werewolf. Two, actually. The creatures crouched low on their haunches while their long snouts were up in the air, no doubt catching a scent. Leliana was never happier to be downwind. As agreed, it was time to alert the others. She turned to Mahariel, ready to confirm their next action but found an empty space, barely catching the disembodied voice ordering her to "watch her back." Leliana had to figure out where was this back she should watch when one of the beasts dropped dead on the ground with barely a gurgle. Its packmate was just turning towards the fallen when another arrow pierced through its temples. Moments later a blond head poked out from behind redwood thirty paces away from Leliana.

"Call them. I see a path," Mahariel said with a gesture of her hand.

Leliana was stunned but nonetheless, complied. Soon as the rear guard came into view, Leliana followed after Mahariel. The junior warden maintained her silent and fast strides but hardly broke a sweat. Her eyes moved to the longbow strapped to Mahariel's back as her mind moved back to the previous ambush. Leliana was skilled with the bow herself, some even comparing her to the Dalish but now, seeing Mahariel...she sighed. She'd have to stick to daggers if she didn't want to embarrass herself.

"What is it?" Mahariel asked over her shoulder.

"Nothing," Leliana replied with a shake of her head. Mahariel frowned then pressed a finger to her own lips; a silent order. Leliana could only nod.

Indeed, Alistair was right; Mahariel _is_ amazing. Or did he say terrifying? She couldn't recall.

Leliana settled with both.

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><p>"How could he betray us like that?" Mahariel asked feebly as she looked up to the swirling dust that was Zathrian and the Forest Spirit. Blood and dirt were smeared all over her body, nearly hiding the vibrant green of her ornate armor. Oddly though, her hair stayed clean. Leliana thought it too bright beneath the ruins' dwindling light.<p>

Alistair placed a hand on Mahariel's shoulder but offered no words. The junior warden allowed it to linger. Trembling, Mahariel asked, "Did I betray him?"

"No, no! I don't think..." Alistair sputtered, then sighed. He looked pleadingly to Leliana. She nodded and joined the senior warden, taking the girl's quivering hand in her own. She thought of what to say but nothing came to mind that didn't sound like indulgent patronizing.

Yet, it may be better than nothing.

"You didn't," Leliana offered quietly, giving Mahariel's hand a gentle squeeze.

Mahariel said nothing but squeezed Leliana's hand in reply. She did the same with the hand on her shoulder. Through the cake of red and brown on the warden's face, Leliana noticed the clearness of the blue eyes beneath. Unshed tears did nothing to dampen their brilliance.

Falon barked eagerly, catching their attention. He was trotting towards his mistress with the fallen Keeper's staff in his mouth. Morrigan and Sten were behind the mabari, loot in tow.

"'Tis everything," Morrigan declared, then dumped her share of treasures on Alistair's feet. Alistair grumbled but nonetheless picked at the loot. Leave it to Morrigan to antagonize the man despite the fatigue; Leliana could tell that much from the sluggishness of her tone and movements. Even Sten seemed a little pale.

Suddenly, Leliana was reminded of her own weariness. She almost did not notice Mahariel take her hand back, not that she meant to hold on to it. The elf knelt on one knee as she took the staff and gave the loyal hound a vigorous pat on the head. With the back of her hand, Mahariel took a moment to wipe her face. Leliana half-expected the elf to finally shed her tears but instead, she showed her and the others something they've never seen before.

A real smile.

"Let's go," Mahariel said and walked ahead of the group, either oblivious or unwilling to heed the surprise on everyone's faces. Except Sten and Falon, of course.

And just like that, Mahariel wasn't so terrifying anymore.

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><p>AN 2: To Narcoleptic Valencian, if you're still reading...I hope you enjoyed. =B


	8. Fearsome Women

A/N: Pardon for the lengthy build-up. At this juncture I might as well confirm that yes, Leliana will be playing a baby-elf snatcher =D~

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><p>The mood was decidedly somber in the Dalish camp; not surprising, considering their Keeper just died. Lanaya, the new Keeper, as previously agreed, pledged to give the Dalish's aid against the Blight. She was even kind enough to offer them much needed supplies and shelter for as long as they needed. Mahariel would've preferred to move on soon as they'd delivered the sad news, but they couldn't. Though no one in their little band would admit it, nearly three days of travel and fighting without reprieve had taken its toll. It was only Mahariel who remained awake among her peers, the rest having turned in early for the grueling journey ahead. Fatigue notwithstanding it may be her last chance to be with the Dalish.<p>

And yet...

Mahariel sat by the glaring bonfire, curiously quiet despite familiar company. She hadn't realized that she missed seeing vallaslin; she had grown too accustomed to the humans and flat-ears' naked faces. Her thoughts on her People inevitably took her back to Zathrian. She herself didn't know why, but the deceased Keeper's actions had given her cause to think about her own choices. Had she been selfish? Pale brows knitted at her own question as the answer was immediate; which was _yes_. Now the question was did it harm other people. Right now, Mahariel could not think of anyone. Alistair and his company were in one piece, after all. But in the future, perhaps? What if she wasn't there to snipe a hurlock ready to cleave Alistair's head from behind? What if she wasn't there to spot a cleverly hidden ambush that could land an arrow through Morrigan's heart? What if—

"Warden?"

Mahariel turned to meet the voice; a man, one of the People. Initially dismayed with herself at how easily she now responded to the title, Mahariel tucked the thought away and smiled politely at her elder. The man bowed reverently in reply and before Mahariel could feel awkward about it, he offered, "I am tasked to deliver word of our pledge to the Sabrae. Do you have any message?"

Again, the answer was immediate.

"None," Mahariel said curtly.

The messenger was obviously taken aback but kept his displeasure to himself. A good thing, else she'd be forced to explain herself; something she wasn't prepared to do at the moment. If she was confused about her role as a warden she was even more conflicted towards her clan. Mahariel turned away from the man without another word, drowning herself in the familiar music of her People's tongue. The roaring bonfire made it easier. Questions were answered with hardly a thought; she may have been rude but it wasn't meant. Opalescent eyes glittered in the warm light; Mahariel was lost in the sea of her own mind.

"Grey Warden," Mahariel said quietly to herself. If playing the part meant people wouldn't die, she was willing to go along with it. It was simple enough reason. And she was but a simple hunter. That should be enough to tide her through. What else could she lose, anyway?

It was then Mahariel noticed Leliana across the fire from her, standing outside her tent with an instrument of sorts. Though the light was poor and the distance considerable, Mahariel could see the disapproval in those eyes. Disapproval directed at...her? The junior warden frowned. What should Leliana take issue with? Certainly not the messenger; that wasn't any of her business. Perhaps her actions? That Mahariel could deal with but if Alistair wasn't going to say about it, Leliana shouldn't, either.

Leliana had gone into her tent before Mahariel could do anything.

* * *

><p>"You're quite...generous with your use of arrows," Leliana said to Mahariel, each word both a stumble and a note.<p>

"What?" Mahariel asked disbelievingly, turning to face Leliana. The ex-cleric looked sheepish enough but it did nothing to mask her thinly-veiled criticism. She'd be less offended if she didn't recall the disapproving look Leliana had given her several nights before. A human calling a Dalish on her hunting skills! Tamlen would've laughed before putting one between the human's eyes. Mahariel finished looting the dead bandit and stood before Leliana, indignant with a frown. "Using a single arrow to maim is wasteful, you say?" she asked, intending it more as a taunt than a question. Morrigan turned their way as a smirk appeared on her lips.

"If you leave a perfectly usable arrow, then yes," Leliana replied as she knelt down beside the corpse. She pulled out a small knife from her boot, her eyes keenly on the arrow lodged into the dead man's skull.

Mahariel's frown deepened as she crossed her arms over her chest, saying, "I know that. But if you knew how hard it is to pry arrows from bone without warping the—"

"Like this?" Leliana said as she jabbed the knife beside where the arrow was buried and made a slight tug, easily liberating the projectile then offered it up to the astonished warden with a smile.

Mahariel shifted her eyes between the corpse, arrow, and Leliana. The human's handiwork didn't draw any more blood; only a small, clean hole was left in the arrow's wake. Nothing but blood stained the projectile's deadly tip. Eager to find fault with the human, Mahariel took the arrow to see if the effort had bent it.

…

It wasn't. She looked back to Leliana and was met by the same, warm smile from earlier.

A shiver ran down Mahariel's spine; she couldn't tell what was more disturbing, the skill or the casualness with which Leliana accomplished her handiwork. Truth be told she avoided recovering arrows from bodies because she found it..._disturbing. _Exceedingly so with human corpses. Mahariel looked at Leliana's hands and found them clean, just like the rest of her; puzzling given how she fought up close. The junior warden directed a look at Alistair, Sten, and Falon, all of whom were bathed in gore. Mahariel's thoughts float back to her first encounter with the ex-cleric; bathed in blood, deep blue eyes gleaming with lethality. She took a wary step back and nodded to Leliana.

"I'll take that into consideration," Mahariel said weakly. Leliana cocked her head, obviously curious. Nonetheless, the human left it alone and offered to retrieve the rest of the arrows. Mahariel could only mutter a quiet "thank you" and watched Leliana proceed with her morbid task.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Alistair said as he joined the junior warden's side, likewise directing a fond look at the Orlesian at work. It was in contrast with the fear on Mahariel's face.

"She scares me," Mahariel whispered.

"Really? And here I thought nothing did," Alistair replied dryly as he wiped the gore away from his face. Mahariel scowled at her senior's nonchalance, though it looked more like a pout. Alistair only caught sight of the elf's dismay when he stowed the bloodied rag into his armguard. His eyes briefly widened before chuckling. "If it makes you feel better, I find you scary too," he said as he patted the increasingly annoyed Mahariel on the shoulder.

Mahariel shrugged the hand away. "I am serious, human," she hissed as she sidled close to Alistair, "She's far more dangerous than she lets on. She might be wanted murderess for all we know."

"Like Sten, you mean?" Alistair retorted, visibly irritated. When Mahariel returned his displeasure with a glare, Alistair could only raise his hands before him and sighed. "Look, all of us here are dangerous and with good reason; we're here to kill darkspawn. Unless you really think she'll go insane and go princess-stabbity on us, I don't think there's any reason you should be scared of her."

Mahariel crossed her arms again, obviously unconvinced. "You trust too easily," she said before looking over her shoulder and saw Leliana headed towards them with arrows in hand. The elf turned back to Alistair and whispered, "I'm keeping an eye on her. You too."

"Already am," Alistair replied with goofy grin. Mahariel narrowed her eyes at him in question and was answered by a blush and awkward coughs. More puzzling that Alistair looked away soon as Leliana joined them.

"Your arrows, Warden," Leliana offered gracefully.

Mahariel nodded in thanks, taking the arrows but all the while regarding the ex-cleric with a wary eye. Leliana did not seem to notice, however, as she simply kept smiling that warm smile of hers. As Mahariel placed the arrows back in her quiver, and looked at Alistair again, who had by then started an empty conversation about the "lovely" weather. An odd thing to say, Mahariel thought, considering how dark it was that midday. Without another word she left the pair to their own company, joining Morrigan instead. The mage welcomed her with a smirk.

"You seem tired, Warden," Morrigan asked, sounding quite amused.

"Yes. Those two tire me," Mahariel affirmed then looked curiously at Morrigan. "Are all humans like them?"

Morrigan sneered, lifting an eyebrow at the young warden. "Obviously not unless you lump me with a brainless lot such as them," she huffed.

"I meant those city humans," Mahariel clarified with a shake of her head.

The mage shrugged in reply, saying, "I do not know. Neither do I care."

Mahariel looked at the woman for a moment, then sighed. She fell back from Morrigan's stride and looked at Sten. The giant seemed as unapproachable as ever. Another sigh and a shake of her head. She jogged ahead and joined Falon. If only the hound could talk. To the lonely elf it seemed that fighting darkspawn would be the easier part of her task.

* * *

><p>Mahariel sat alongside Alistair, minding the skewered meat roasting by the bonfire. The other women had gone to nearby stream for a wash while Sten was in search of more firewood. The overly-hygienic elf would have gone for a wash as well but she wanted something <em>edible<em> for dinner; she still couldn't comprehend how Alistair could bungle roasting meat. And she had caught such a fine stag too. Had Alistair been Dalish he'd never be considered fit for marriage. Mahariel couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"Thanks, by the way," Alistair said out of the blue just as she turned over one of the skewers on its other side.

Mahariel looked at him curiously, wondering what the man should be thankful for. The question may have been plain on her face for Alistair added, quite quietly, "For deciding to stay."

The junior warden was startled by the gratitude and immediately became bashful. As she felt her face warming, Mahariel looked away. "You're welcome," she mumbled. She would've said there was nothing to be thankful about since she had been a selfish brat that had caused them trouble but that would open room for more conversation, possibly about things she'd rather not talk about. Hence, she kept minding the skewers. Seeing one was ready, she offered the roasted meat to Alistair. Predictably, he declined. Mahariel nodded and began her meal; about time too, her appetite had been far too insatiable lately.

Mahariel was almost through her first skewer when Alistair plucked one of the meats from the fire. She had expected him to dig into the food without preamble but instead, he interposed a question. "How's your ear?" he asked, pointing to said appendage with a skewer.

Mahariel gingerly touched the area. The jagged edges still felt off beneath her fingers. She was only too glad that Zathrian was able to heal it as well as he did, otherwise she'd be missing half an ear. As it was, only two small indentations by the tip were the only evidence of the previous injury. Mahariel wiggled her ears for Alistair, drawing a small chuckle from the man. "Alright, I suppose. It's not ugly, is it?" she asked self-consciously.

"No, no," Alistair declared with a shake of his head then took a hearty bite off the roasted leg. Mahariel had to frown at the loud smacking her senior produced while chewing. "You look like a proper warrior with a battle scar," he commented as he licked the meaty juices dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Really?" Mahariel asked, wide-eyed, obviously flattered. The young Dalish was fully aware of just how unseasoned she looked among her companions. Smiling faintly, once again she touched the irregular tip; pity she had to injure an ear to change that appearance.

"Oh, a lady shouldn't be told that," Leliana said, joining them from behind. She smiled warmly at Mahariel, looking thoroughly refreshed from her wash, making the poor elf feel suddenly itchy in her armor. Leliana sat by the log Mahariel was perched upon and declared, "She reminds me of a kitten we had in the chantry."

The smile fell from Mahariel's face as she lifted an eyebrow. "A kitten," she repeated incredulously.

"Mmm," Leliana said with a nod as she took a skewer. "A blond tabby, she has blue eyes much like yours. We call her Rascal." Bright eyes gleamed as Leliana giggled. "And quite a fighter, too. Lost a bit of her ear when she took on another cat. Her ear, again, turned out quite like yours. She's such a dear."

Both wardens looked dumbly at Leliana; Mahariel unable to decide if she should be offended or flattered with the new comparison. From being a seasoned warrior to a dear kitten...but then Leliana did say the kitten was a fierce fighter. Mahariel shook her head and finished her skewer, deciding not to dwell on it. Taking a second serving, she turned to Alistair and asked, "You think we'll reach Redcliffe tomorrow?"

"Yes. Lacking more ambushes might allow us to arrive by noon," Alistair answered as he disposed of the plundered skewer then promptly took another, offering it to Leliana. The woman declined with a shake of her head as she showed off her unfinished meal. Alistair grinned and took the skewer for his before turning to Mahariel. "Otherwise, by nightfall," he concluded.

The junior warden nodded, satisfied with the answer, then proceeded with her meal. Morrigan had joined them briefly to take a portion before moving to her lonely tent. Sten did the same, but he stayed by the camp's perimeter, eating while keeping watch. Falon stayed by Mahariel's feet, already chewing on the leftover bone of his own meal. Halfway through the second skewer Mahariel idly wondered why she was nowhere near full; an oddity, previously she could be satisfied by a lone rabbit's leg. Perhaps it was just all the activity making her hungry. Mahariel looked at Alistair again, who was already covetously eyeing the last skewer. He must have felt the girl's eyes on him since he met Mahariel's gaze. Rubbing the back of his neck, Alistair smiled sheepishly. "Don't look at me like that. I'm willing to share it if you are," he said.

Mahariel drew back, belatedly realizing that she had been glaring. Was she really still that hungry? Yes. Nodding at Alistair, she gestured to the last slab while lamely offering, "Sorry for not preparing more, I'm usually a light eater."

Alistair shook his head, taking the skewer and with a small knife, divided it into two. "Don't be. Appetite comes with being a Warden. All that strength and stamina has to come from somewhere," He looked thoughtful as he added, "Or, you know, something to fuel the Taint."

Mahariel had to wince at the last word, being reminded of her first encounter with it. She sighed; whatever pleasant distraction her supper and company offered was gone. Alistair must have noticed for the next thing he asked was if the junior warden was feeling alright. Mahariel lied, of course, opting to placate the man. Her attention was then fixed on the suddenly tasteless skewer. Companionable silence followed.

Leliana finished her meal first; not a wonder, for she took only one and the smallest portion. As she threw the spent skewer into the fire, she turned to Mahariel and gushed, "Thank you for the wonderful meal. It's been ages since I've had anything so hearty!"

Mahariel couldn't help but smile at the sincere appreciation. She was just about to say "you're welcome" once more but Alistair interjected with mock affront, "You wound me, Leliana! You didn't like the extra portion of stew I saved for you?"

Leliana giggled, feebly swatting at the senior warden's arm. "You mean that gray mush you called lamb casserole? I am sorry Alistair but it was simply too..." the woman trailed off, looking up to the night sky as if it had the answer.

Even the stars couldn't offer a kind word.

"..._unedible_," Leliana finally said. At least she was gracious enough to look sheepish. Mahariel was unable to withhold a chuckle.

Alistair 'hmph'ed, crossing his arms. "Alright, be that way. I hereby abandon my cooking duties to our dear Dalish here," he huffed.

"A great mercy, indeed!" Morrigan cried from her faraway corner.

"Hush, witch!" Alistair yelled back, humor nonetheless visible on his features but was quickly replaced by horror. "Wait, she _can _hear us all the way from there?" he gasped, looking over his shoulder to the direction of Morrigan's camp.

Leliana chuckled quietly with a hand over her mouth. "You were just too loud, yes?" she said then regarded the younger warden. "If I may ask, Mahariel, what herbs did you use?" Leliana asked in earnest, perching her chin above her palm.

Mahariel's eyes widened, surprised that Leliana would take notice of the ingredients; she had expected the humans to just wolf down whatever food she served them after the disaster that was Alistair's cooking. She swallowed the tiny morsel she had been chewing and replied, "Just some dried oregano and mint. I'd have added garlic if the camp had any."

"I'm surprised it turned as delicious as it did with only that," Leliana remarked, her smile growing wider with the words. Mahariel suddenly found herself staring at the woman, not noticing that Alistair was doing the same. Again, she was caught by how striking Leliana's blue eyes were, much darker than her own; they were so rich that they appeared as violet beneath the warm light. Having a dislike for her own eyes, Mahariel never imagined she'd find Leliana's similarly colored eyes appealing. Well, Leliana's were a deeper shade than hers and even without that her other features were just as eye-catching. Mahariel stopped herself at that thought and caught sight of Alistair, whose jaw was hanging as Leliana commented further on cooking. Seeing her senior like that somehow reminded Mahariel of her own dealings with Tamlen.

…

Tamlen.

A rush of melancholy ran through the Mahariel. The pain was duller, somewhat, but it wasn't any more pleasant. She focused on the ongoing conversation instead, barely hearing Leliana say something about traveling with her opened her eyes about the Dalish. Both of the humans' gazes were upon Mahariel, obviously waiting for her input.

"Sorry," Mahariel mumbled, tilting her head slightly as she regarded the other woman. "You were saying?"

"I said, traveling with you has opened my eyes about the Dalish," Leliana reiterated, the musicality of her tone somehow engaging Mahariel more than the words. She nodded absently and Leliana continued, "Contrary to lore you do not snatch women or children without provocation."

Mahariel's jaw dropped with shock, taking more than a moment before crying, "Humans think so of us?" Alistair began to laugh but the elf's sharp glare silenced him.

"Mmm," Leliana nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid most do. Thus, I am ever glad for your company," the human said, placing a warm hand over Mahariel's. "If only your people and mine are more open to each other's culture, so much could be learned."

Mahariel looked at the hand over hers, soft but callused at the same time. The sight of Leliana's long, feminine fingers reminded the young warden of the woman's earlier task along with her suspicions against her. Not to say she considered the touch too intimate. Mahariel pulled her hand away and looked warily at Leliana, seeing the apparent dismay on the latter's face. Usually, Mahariel could brush such looks away but had trouble doing the same with the ex-cleric. Mahariel's face softened as she decided to pursue the conversation; might as well make her thankless task less lonely. "Easier said than done, you humans are as wary of us as we are," Mahariel said noncommittally, finishing off the last bite of her dinner.

"Perhaps if we found common ground, we'll get along better," Alistair said, a little too eagerly.

"We unite against the Blight. That should do," Mahariel immediately supplied, eager to move to another subject.

"But we don't always have a Blight, thank the Maker," Leliana picked up, once again thwarting Mahariel, causing the latter to roll her eyes. With a single clap of her hands, the ex-cleric bubbled with an idea. "How about sharing your way of life?" she exclaimed, "some of us cityfolk are eager to know what it is like to live so close to the earth."

"It's not for everyone," Mahariel sighed as she pulled flatbread from her pack, readily offering some to her companions. Only Alistair accepted while Leliana seemed content with listening. Hence, Mahariel continued. "We need to hunt and gather if we want to eat. The elements and wild animals are a constant threat," she said, taking a small bite from the bread, taking her time chewing before she pointedly concluded, "As are humans. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Both humans shook their heads. "No. I'm afraid to say you're the only Dalish I've met, much less spoken to," Leliana sighed, bringing a hand to her face, "The ones I've met were city elves, and mostly pledged servants to nobles."

Mahariel frowned, drawing meaning in Leliana's words. "You mean slaves," she muttered.

"Oh no! There is no slavery in Orlais," Leliana exclaimed, "Servants pledge themselves voluntarily, and some are quite well-paid, sometimes more so than humans. Elves are especially sought after since they are pleasant to look at and they're—"

"Leliana..." Alistair called pleadingly.

"—very dextrous, yes? Why, once I met this elven minstrel, so skilled with the harp that she put every one of us to shame! I was quite fortunate that—"

"We're best as servants then?" Mahariel hissed venomously through gritted teeth, promptly quieting Leliana. The woman opened her mouth, no doubt to utter an apology but Mahariel was having none of it, rising immediately to her feet. "Well, I suppose that's better than being a cold murderess," she spat, causing Leliana to visibly flinch. She turned to Alistair. "I'm off to take a wash," she declared curtly before gesturing to Falon, saying "goodnight" to no one in particular then stomped off with her small pack. The loyal hound followed after his mistress.

"That...didn't go well," Alistair said lamely as soon as Mahariel was beyond earshot.

Leliana groaned in reply, burying her face in both hands. "My words were clumsily chosen," she breathed. She peeked through her hands, looking sadly at Alistair. "And just when she's finally opening up to us," she said remorsefully.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Mahariel's just irritable 'cause she hasn't taken a wash," Alistair said with a wave of his hand. "She'll be chatty again soon as the grimy moods have been washed away."

Leliana could only smile weakly. "I should hope so, otherwise..." she trailed off then, sighing, she regarded Alistair with a solemn look. "Is it better if I just kept quiet?" she asked.

"What! No!" Alistair readily answered then looked away, scratching at the day-old stubble on his chin. "You give sound advice, Leliana. I'd have lost it when Mahariel ran off if it weren't for you," he confessed, embarrassment readable from his voice. He did not see the surprise on the woman's face.

"You...give me too much credit," was all Leliana could say, searching blue eyes on Alistair's face. They both turned away when their eyes met. Silence followed.

"She asked me to keep an eye on you," Alistair confessed again, breaking the quiet.

"Why?" Leliana asked flatly as her eyes moved to the fire before them.

Alistair sighed. "She's scared of you. Of your skills, to be exact," he related with shake of his head. "I told her it's nothing to be worried about. I mean, we did—"

"She's right to be scared," Leliana interrupted as she threw another log into the fire.

Alistair froze from his seat, his head jerking towards his companion. "What?" he asked, his eyes narrowed with alarm. When Leliana remained quiet, he asked her with a more pointed, "_Why_?"

Leliana's eyes moved away from the fire and met Alistair's. Every ounce of mirth from earlier had entirely disappeared, replaced by a severity that could rival their resident qunari's own. With a deep breath, Leliana exhaled her foreboding preamble,

"Let me tell you about the Game."


	9. Eavesdrop

A/N: The nerve! Why so short after nearly 6 months without an update, you ask, dear reader? Because I chopped chapter 9 into two, that's why! Which means, ch. 10 will come faster. Also, if anyone reading here is also following "Of the Night Winds", I promise that will be updated next.

* * *

><p>She hadn't meant to, but she had. Mahariel had left the camp in such a state that she forgot to bring her bath implements. Embarrassing as it was to go back to camp and face the humans she had just walked out on, Mahariel couldn't very well take her bath without her trusty lye soap and pumice. Thus, there she was, barely ten paces away from camp, steeling herself to ignore the ex-chantry pair for when she retrieved her tools when she heard—<p>

"A _bard_?" Alistair asked Leliana and from the bonfire's waning light; Mahariel could see he was in shock. "You mean, the _Orlesian _sort?" he asked further.

Leliana laughed dryly and answered; "Yes, sadly." She turned to the night sky, making it hard for Mahariel to see her features as she asked; "I imagine you've heard stories about us?"

Alistair chewed on his lip and wrung his hands together as a rosy flush spread on his face. "Uhm...yes but...it wasn't from something I could call a credible source," he stammered.

"Erotica?" Leliana hummed.

"Err. Yes," Alistair replied, turning an even darker shade of scarlet. Mahariel took note to find out what 'erotica' was.

"Seduction was only part of the Game. We also lie, cheat, steal and kill," Leliana related as if she was mouthing off a dreadful chore.

Alistair seemed to ponder for a moment, the crackling of burning wood emerging from the silence. Then, he asked; "So...how are you different from assassins?"

Leliana took a breath, then, keeping her eyes to the sky, she answered; "Our goal isn't to take life, it is to ruin it."

Mahariel shivered at the narration; so she was right about the sneaky shemlen! She sunk behind the bushes, gesturing to Falon to keep silent and as ordered, the hound obeyed. The younger warden was already contemplating how to run Leliana out of the group when Alistair whispered—

"Something must have happened for you to end up in the Chantry. A crisis of conscience?" he offered with mirth.

With a shake of her head, Leliana sighed. "If only it were so," she said and, regarding Alistair solemnly, she breathed, "I was betrayed by my bardmaster."

_Betrayed._

The word echoed inside Mahariel's head, striking a familiar chord. Empathy was immediate but Mahariel staved it off; it was unthinkable for the human to be similarly situated as her. And, Mahariel thought, given Leliana's former profession she probably deserved it. Hence, the young warden listened further, fully intending to condemn the woman regardless of her woe and misfortune.

But as the story wore on—

Mahariel felt a drop of water fall on her hand. She ignored it, but more fell upon her cheek. She reached up to her face and wiped it dry. Still, the drops kept coming.

It wasn't rain.


End file.
